


Uninvited Guests

by aplatonicjacuzzi



Series: It's The Little Things [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Alcohol, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, M/M, Multi, everyone lives au, general rvb guys being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aplatonicjacuzzi/pseuds/aplatonicjacuzzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war at Chorus ends and the guys go back to Blood Gulch in Kimball’s best ship. But… They’re not alone when they come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> This has been edited solely for continuation purposes. The idea was from tumblr user mrfippstuff. This is a collaboration but, since Nick (tumblr user aplatonicjaccuzi) doesn't have an ao3 account, I'm gonna be posting these. With permission, of course.

* * *

 

The Captains and their Lieutenants "save" Donut, Wash, Sarge and Lopez from the Feds and reconcile with Carolina and Epsilon. Simmons has been counting days and weeks. He says that since Chorus was far from Blood Gulch, they’ve been travelling for a month now. They were stuck in the canyon on Chorus for three months. They were separated by the Feds for a month.

They haven’t been in Blood Gulch for three years straight since Wash has visited them.

Simmons and Grif are taking bets on if Sister is still alive.

The newly formed Blood Gulch crew take off from Chorus, inviting the Lieutenants and Felix with them. They crash land in Zanzibar. They make their way off to their shortcut route towards Blood Gulch. Since, yeah, home.

As the group makes their way through the caves (“I remember this fucking cave,"  mutters Grif. "Biggest disappointment _ever_. Of all time.” Sarge snickers at the side and mumbles how it was the best game he’s ever played), Carolina detects movement from within the canyon on their radar. “Everyone stop,” Carolina directs to the others, and they halt in their tracks behind her and Washington. “Did you see that, Wash?”

“Yeah,” he responded, his eyes on the tracking radar in his HUD. “What do you think it was?”

Carolina pulls out her sniper and cocks it. “I don’t know. Let’s find out, shall we? Everyone stay here, Wash and I are going on recon.”

Wash and Carolina creep up to the mouth of the cave, coming out to the vast canyon of Blood Gulch. The grey-colored soldier kneels down in front of Carolina, and the both of them mount their weapons to scan the area for hostiles. After a few moments passes, they think they’re in the clear. Then the sound of sniper fire echoes through the canyon.

An open broadcast follows the shots. “ _DON’T HIDE, YOU OLD WRINKLED **DICK**!_ ” were the first words they hear from the voice of a dead man.

“ _Ah, I see how you’re related to your dear sister now, North_ ,” responds the voice of a British man.

“ _Why don’t you come get a closer look, Wyoming?_ ” North dares.

“ _I’m afraid not, good sir; I’m perfectly fine where I am, I think. How about I just wait for Tex to get the flag, and then steal it back from her afterwards? Hm?_ ” asks the voice of Wyoming.

Carolina and Wash remain on the cliff edge in shock. Did they just hear what they think they did?

***

After waiting around for a while with the others, Felix walks up to where Carolina and Washington have set up a recon post. They must’ve found somebody after all. When he reaches them, a faint sound of rave music can be heard coming from their right, inside of a blue base. Wash and Carolina are just squatted there, watching through their sniper scopes without a word.

“Hey guys,” Felix starts, walking up from behind them, “I’m sure what you’re doing is very, uh, important and all, but we got a bunch of assholes in the cave that wanna lea—”

“HEY TEX! LOOK AT THIS AWESOME _BLUE FLAG_ I GOT! I BET IT LOOKS AS GREAT AS YOURS- _OH **WAIT** , THAT’S RIGHT, YOU DON’T **HAVE** ONE ANYMORE! HA HA—_ ”

The yelling catches Felix off-guard, and he quickly brings out a pair of binoculars to see what the commotion is all about.

“Over there, in the middle of the canyon,” Carolina says to Felix, and pointing his binoculars in that direction yields a very interesting sight. A tan armored soldier was getting beaten up by one with black armor with a blue team flag.

“What the _hell_?” Felix mutters.

“Yeah,” Wash replies, irritation in his voice. “‘What the hell’, indeed.”

Two other soldiers, one in a light purple armor with green accents, and the other taller in stature and white armor and brown accents, have come out of Red base to engage the black armored one. The design of the white soldier’s helmet looks familiar; it’s the same kind of helmet used by the soldier during the Project Freelancer incident a little while ago.

“Are they who I _think_ they are? The missing _Freelancers_?”

“ _No_ , they _aren’t_ ,” Wash says firmly. He brings his head up from his rifle scope. “That’s not even an option to consider. The Freelancers are _dead_ , and Carolina and I are the only remaining members.” He looks back through the scope, eyeing the black armored one. "So...  _why_?"

They are _not_ real. It’s impossible. They _can’t_ be alive. Wash knows, he saw most of them die. York and North exploded because of his cause in Recovery work; Maine was pulled off a cliff with a _fucking M12LRV_ ; Connie’s helmet was buried beneath the sands of Sandtrap, with her body nowhere to be found; Tex’s cracked visor was a very clear message, and the original one was supposedly blown up by Recovery Command _way_   before Wash was even released from the hospital after South shot him in the back. South got shot in the fucking face. Epsilon wasn’t really clear on how Florida died. Wash didn't even know he was alive after Tex and York's infiltration in the _Mother of Invention_. Epsilon was more confused than anything, but Florida apparently died while helping Wyoming kidnap Tucker’s kid, and Wyoming was shot by Tex, or so Wash was told.

Then who the hell are _these_ guys?

“ _Of course_ it’s not them,” Carolina replies, keeping her voice calm, though her hands are visibly gripping onto her rifle tightly. She knows what Wash is thinking. “But we don’t know what this is, so let’s not go assuming anything just yet.” It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than the others.

“So, what do you want to do?” asks Felix. He isn’t sure that he wants to stay here any longer than necessary. Legit or not, fighting the remnants of Project Freelancer was not something he signed up for when he decided to join the Reds and Blues on their journey back ‘home’.

“We can’t stay here for long,” Wash states, eyes fixed upon the white-armored Freelancer with the brute shot getting tossed aside by Tex. “We’ll continue to monitor them a bit longer, but after that, we need to get out of here. Go tell the others what’s up.” He orders the mercenary. As Felix gets up and leaves, Carolina calls to him and says, “ _Don’t_ let Church come over.”

“Sure thing,” he remarks. He turns back to the Red and Blue soldiers. “Man, they are not going to like the news.” He mutters to himself.

***

Felix approaches the rest of the group. The sim troopers are getting restless; they’ve all gotten into their usual routine of arguing about nothing. Grif, Simmons and Sarge are talking to Bitters and Jensen, while Church, Tucker and Caboose are arguing with each other, while Smith and Palomo watch. Caboose notices Felix coming back over and waves him down. “Hey look! It’s Felix!” The call to his attention silences everyone and they all turn to him, eager for answers and to get the fuck out of this cave.

“Hey guys, really funny story…" Felix starts, chuckling nervously, "You know how you guys took down Project Freelancer? And beat The Meta?” Felix rubs at the back of his neck. “Well… let’s just say that The Meta _may_ or _may not_ be waiting for you guys outside this cave…”

Everyone starts to freak out.

“The Meta? Aww, come the fuck on!” “I thought we killed that asshole!” “I’m _totally_ freaking out!” "You mean the guy who's as strong as  _ **twenty** bears?!"_

“ _Yeah_...” Felix drawls, he expected this kind of response. He just wasn't prepared for it. “But he’s not the only one out there…”

“ _What_ did you say?” Church’s voice sounds alarmed.

Tucker groans. “ _How many_ of them are there? Is this like, a Tex clone thing again?”

“I hope not. My crotch is _still_ recovering.” Grif shuddered at the thought, shifting from foot to foot. “Fucking bitch.”

“No no, no,” Church speaks up. “How did they end up there? There shouldn’t be any Freelancers left; they’ve all been killed.”

“Try eight of them. They were all wearing different armor.” Felix answers Tucker's question, trying to regulate answers.

Caboose chimed in. “Ooh! Was there a... purple lady?”

“That’s Agent South Dakota,” corrected Church.

“Dominican Republic.” “Stop that, that’s not even in the US.” "Ooh, me too! Um... Puerto Rico?" "Donut... wait, that's actually right."

Felix thought for a bit then nodded. “There were actually _two_ people in purple armor.” Caboose gasped, "...clones." Donut gasps after him. " _What?_ No way! Really?"

Tucker held his hands out. “Wait, _lady_? There are _other_ Freelancer women?” Church snickers. "Yeah, Tucker, she's an overpowered bitch too." " _Damn it!_ "

“That’s not the point!” shouts Simmons, who's been getting irritated by the whole argument, “What the hell are they all doing _here_?! I thought we were fucking _done_ with that!”

“Yeah, the Reds trashed the Meta with a Warthog off an ice cliff. How the fuck did he survive that?” Tucker wonders. The lieutenants nod in agreement.

“Oh, they’re just playing Capture The Flag with your bases. It’s pretty neat, actually.” Felix shrugged.

“ _WHAT_?!” exclaimed Sarge, fury evident in his tone. Everyone flinches and steps back, cautious of the close quarters and shotgun. “THEY’RE USING _OUR FLAGS_?!” Simmons and Grif look at each other and sigh.

“Should that _really_ be what you’re worried about, dude?” replies an exasperated Tucker. Grif shook his head at Sarge. “ _Of course_ that’s what he’d freak out about. Not the _scary-as-fuck Freelancers_ who invaded, but the fact that they’re playing with our _flags_. Fucking _typical,_ Sarge.”

The Lieutenants watch their leaders do their thing, standing around and arguing. What professionals. They shouldn’t worry. Impostors? Fakers can’t stand up to two Freelancers and four Captains, right? And if the Meta  _is_  alive again, they could beat him, right? They did it once, they could do it again! _  
_

“I… I need to check this out.” Church, focusing to the matter at hand, starts to make his way to the cave mouth, towards Wash and Carolina. Felix immediately steps in his way. “What the _fuck_? Let me through, _Felix_.”

“No can do, man.” Felix shakes his head. “Carolina’s orders. You aren’t getting up there.”

“Oh yeah?” Church casually removes himself from his body and ambles toward the exit as an AI. “Fucking _watch_ me.”

Felix reaches out and forgets for a moment that, hey, you can’t touch a holographic picture of a person. “Okay, wait.”

Church pauses and turns to look at him. “Get back in your body.” Felix says, almost exasperated. “It’ll be a pain to carry that when we need to move out. Wash mentioned that we'll be moving out soon.” He explains. Church disappears.

The body moves to stand and walks toward the former Freelancers at the opening of the cave.

***

Back at the mouth of the cave, Carolina and Wash continue to monitor the Freelancers in the canyon. It seems that Tex and North are working together against Wyoming, South and the Me- no, _Maine_. The faint singing of what sounds like Agent Florida and some familiar sounding lady fills their little recon post as both of them attempt to work out this situation in their heads.

Carolina has already settled the matter for herself; these people were not the Project Freelancer Agents she knew, no matter how much she wants them to be. She _does_ notice something peculiar about them, however; whenever they engage in combat, it doesn’t contain the usual...  _deadly_ force they use, like they’re hesitant. She continues to survey their game, focusing in particular on the soldier in tan armor... maybe things _weren’t_ so simple.

Washington was still in shambles, constantly thinking of the last encounters with each of his comrades. Dead bodies that needed to be disposed of. Betrayal on top of betrayal. Pistol to the face. Having been one of the worst Freelancers on his team, to being one of the last two remaining. If _that_ is his reality, then what are they-

“Hey, what the fuck is going on over here?” Church’s voice interrupts their train of thought.

Carolina immediately spins around. “ Hey, I thought I told Felix to keep you back there.” She says, a frown evident in her voice.

Church chuckles. “Yeah, as if some _douchebag_ could stop an AI,” Church retorts. “So, where are the other Freelancers?”

“They’re not Freelancers.” Wash bristles at the side. Church rolls his eyes and grabs the sniper rifle stuck to Wash’s back.

“They’re _impostors_ , more likely.” Carolina mutters. “They’re supposed to be _dead_.”

“Yeah, well so are _you_.” Church replies. Church can feel her glare from under the helmet and he makes a gulping noise that he shouldn’t probably do anymore. Robots can’t gulp. Robots don’t have saliva.

Church shakes the feeling off and crouches down to look through the sniper’s scope. Blue base looks pretty fine. There are two figures standing on the roof between the blue flag. The light from the pole hits his eye (how should it? He doesn’t have an eye). The smaller of the two figures is wearing blue ODST armor. The slightly taller, more slender, has standard yellow Mark VI armor. Could it be…

“Wait, wait.” Church looks up from the scope to look at Wash. “Wait, is that... is that Grif’s _sister_ down there?”

Wash shrugs. _Oh_ , Epsilon thinks. _I forgot that we didn’t discuss that. Like, ever._ “You know what? Never mind.” Church says and goes back to looking through the scope.

He directs the view down the canyon towards Red base. Explosions ring through the canyon. His grip is shaking as the sound reverberates into the cave.

A black figure has the red flag stuck on her back as she hauls ass towards Blue base. Behind her, a taller figure in dark purple armor and neon green accents tries to catch up. He turns and continues running, pointing his sniper at what’s chasing them and firing. Sniper rounds are flying everywhere.

Behind them, someone wearing white EVA armor and brown accents is shooting grenades at them. Hiding behind the giant in EVA armor is someone in white Mark VI armor, shooting calculative shots at their escapees.

They all seem so familiar. They’re all supposed to be Freelancers. But that can’t be, right? Those guys are gone, dead.

Something is wrong. It’s like there are voices in his head, trying to claw their way out. He’s sensed something happening with him since the talk with Felix in the caves, but it’s intensified. He finally reaches his breaking point. “ _Guuuuys… something’s g-going on-on-on-on- going on with me…_ ” Church's voice cracks, becoming artificial. Carolina and Wash watch with horror as Church’s body collapses. The sniper falls on its side. Church curls in on himself, clutching his head.

That’s when the screaming starts.

Wash winces, looking back at their group. They’re all just as startled as him. His voice gets caught in his throat. He’s sure that Carolina’s ears are ringing from Epsilon’s painful howls. The group in the canyon is moving; they’ve obviously heard Epsilon’s cries. Wash waits for it, waiting for it to stop. He struggles to find his own voice. He clears his throat.

“Everyone, _move out_. Back to the beach. Keep Epsilon as far away as possible.” Wash tries for a commanding voice. Everyone follows. Carolina doesn’t move; she’s shocked, frozen. Wash waves a hand in front of her visor. She looks at him, tilting her head a bit. Wash really wants to shut off his speakers, but it’s a scream that he’s all too familiar with; he takes it all in.

He points Carolina to the group. She nods and crouches down to help Church up from his position, grabbing the sniper rifle for the go. Church is fluid, moving to Carolina’s moves to help him up. These aren’t things a robot can do but Epsilon’s gotten to be more than that.

“Epsilon, transfer into my slot.” She orders halfway into the cave. Wash stares back at them. Epsilon transfers. The screaming stops as Church disappears into her armor. Carolina carries the robot body with her without any effort.

Wash turns to look back out into the canyon.

The music stops. Dead silence and echoes of Epsilon’s screams fill his head.

* * *

Tex wakes up.

Which is strange because she doesn’t remember ever falling asleep. It’s been a _long_ time.

She’s laying on a cold metallic floor looking up at the sky through a large hole in the ceiling. As she sits up, yawning and stretching her arms, Tex immediately notices a large blue flag planted in the center of the room, followed by what appeared to be multicolored lights and speakers strewn around the top of each wall.

There’s an itch coming from near the center of her back. Her neck aches and her eyes start tearing up after she yawns. Tex struggles to reach the spot, muttering infuriatingly before realizing that _this,_ the itch, the ache, the sleep, the yawn, the bones popping when she stretches. These wouldn’t _ever_ exist on a robot body.

Panicked, she blindly grabbed for her helmet, lifted it up, and stares at her visor. There is an unfamiliar reflection of a human face. She sits up and looks at herself, rips off the armor plating and glove on her hand and stares at the skin, feels the warmth coming from it. Human body, short red hair, familiar facial structure, a star tattooed on her back (she discovered after locating the nearest mirror), green eyes, and new black armor.

Tex thought she was alone until she saw North’s and Florida’s sleeping forms on the floor of the base. Then immediately, Kaikaina was in her view humming a tune as she removes the rave lights and sound system. She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “Oh, hey, Tex! Long time no see.” She greeted her, like this wasn’t something out of the ordinary.

Kai died too, the cheery girl mentioned. That Spanish robot (who can’t speak straight) shot her. She woke up in the same position she died. Tex, North, and Florida’s bodies were just lying with her. She thought it was just her waking up from a hangover from a  _rad_ party the night before. Turns out it wasn't.

Death is _really weird_ for the groups of people Tex know.

North and Florida wake up minutes later, and they discuss what happened to them.

Florida explained that he was in charge of the Alpha, something that kind of irked her because she was just with the Alpha a few seconds before her death, with the Meta. He disappeared one day, into the caves, to control the simulations going on inside Blood Gulch. Until Tucker got pregnant (“Wait. Who got pregnant?” asked North. “You don’t wanna know.” Kai, Tex, and Florida respond, simultaneously shaking their heads), and Florida kind of wanted to end the war at that point. He assisted with getting Tucker’s kid out of the canyon (Tex remembered that, going against Church wasn’t on the top of her list but, whatever wins the war, right?). He got sniped and killed. “Whoever did that really has a good shot!” Florida said, smiling. Tex just gave him a weird look.

North explained that he was backed up into a corner and watched as the Meta pulled him up by the chest piece and ripped his helmet off. And ripped the chip on the back of his neck. All the while, Theta was virtually squirming, fretting, _Agent South should turn her trackers on. She should! North, just **trust me** with this_. Theta’s last words before that were garbled noises of ‘no’ and ‘North’. North’s last words were ‘It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.’

That immediately silenced the room. Tex excuses herself and leaves the base, which is when she realizes that she really _was_ in Blood Gulch. But... _how?_ She should really stop asking that question.

After a few moments, Florida, Kai, and North came out with her to survey the area. “Home, sweet home,” Kaikaina happily comments, a smile on her face. They decide to patrol around the area and bounded upon South, York, CT, Maine, and Wyoming trying to kill each other.

It took Florida and Kai’s words to put their guns down. Kai’s oddness helped. Tex was the one who intervened and convinced them to talk.

“Look, guys. We all ended up here even though we _know_ we’re supposed to be dead. So, I suppose, everyone should just get along and cherish the second life.” Tex spoke slowly, hands up in a surrendering pose. “Now, _stop_ trying to fucking _kill_ each other again, and let’s talk about how we all died. Sound good?”

They all sat down on top of Red base, talking about how they all died and woke up here. Blue team, or the people who woke up in Blue base, explained themselves.

York was shot by Wyoming and left to die with Delta.

Wyoming was defeated by Tucker and was shot by Tex. “Seriously,” North interrupts, “Who the heck is Tucker, and how the hell did he get pregnant?” Tex does her best to glare at him under her helmet until he stopped. Neither Wyoming, Florida, nor Kai were willing to explain it to him.

C.T. - no, _Connie_. Connie died bleeding to death in an escape pod’s floor. Tex apologized and everyone kind of just, didn't know about that. They weren’t really used to this social Tex and just let the silence consume them.

South was the most interesting. She confessed, no problem, that she was selfish and she let North die by the Meta (Maine winces for the second time the name rolls of someone’s tongue). She explained how Wash came in; how he was approved Article 12 after Epsilon was removed, and let him out again; how Wash had Delta explained that he recovered the AI from York; how Wash tried to catch the Meta (Maine sighs); how she shot Wash so she could get her own AI; how she almost escaped the Meta (Maine just gives up) by giving up Delta (that plan failed); how Wash shot her in the face, and how she deserved it. North forgave her almost instantly.

Maine growls because no one could understand him. Connie pats him on the back. He types into Inter Comm instead. He was controlled by Sigma most of the times he killed, and says that he’s sorry. He gained consciousness when the EMP that killed Tex went off. He was arrested and let go with their equipment for a mission that Wash wanted to go through with, possibly as a free pass out of prison. Something about Epsilon (Tex stiffens at the mention of the fragment). He and Wash faced a memory of Tex and were almost obliterated by snowy terrain, until they forcibly took that fragment and Maine used it for himself. In the end, he was hooked up to a Warthog and dragged off a cliff. South teases him about how he got killed by a bunch of simulation troopers but Maine just rolls his eyes and snorts too. _Yeah_ , it _was_ pretty ridiculous.

Florida suggested that maybe they were in heaven, which was stupid. Project Freelancer  peaked the bad in their bad to good ratio. They couldn’t make up for all the bad shit they did. Even if they had ten years to prove it. Heaven or afterlife was out of the question. Though, hell could still be in the question, considering how bland and dull the canyon looks now, even  _with_ the vegetation.

Moments after that, a medic in purple armor, Doc (Tex remembers his name) walks up, wondering how he ended up from a remote planet to this backwater canyon (“Wow, this certainly _is_ a blast from the past!” Doc says, looking around the canyon). Tex just stares at him and orders him to explain himself (“Okay, okay! Testy.” He said. Tex pulled a gun out and checked the ammo for extra pizzazz. “Speak or I shoot.”)

He explained from all the way from Omega escaping with Tex and Tucker’s kid.  Some people moved out of Blood Gulch quickly after, including himself. He met up with Simmons and a dead Donut a year after the war ended. That’s when he was held hostage by Wash and the Meta (everyone looked at Maine and Maine just shrugs. He might have forgotten that fact). After that, a copy of Tex attacked them, they killed the Meta, and Blue Team adopted Wash. From Sidewinder, they were supposed to go back to Valhalla (the new bases) but were stopped short by Carolina (York stiffens in his stance), who wanted and succeeded in killing the Director and officially ending the project (the Freelancers look at each other, somewhat lost). Doc says this was all just told to him by Grif and Simmons. The last he’s seen them, they were at some random planet in the middle of buttfuck nowhere called Chorus, Epsilon and Carolina had left the Reds and Blues there, and there was going to be this huge fight that they were preparing for. Then, he was suddenly here, right before a big battle facing off in a civil war.

Tex tells him that he either died or something else brought him here. Doc told her something about teleporter cubes. She asked if he was going to stick around, but after his track record with Freelancers, he didn’t want to take his chances. However, Florida chimed in and offered to keep a watch over Doc while everyone got settled.

It’s been a year after that hectic, emotionally stressful day. The former Freelancers have settled in and discussed their differences. They’ve all come to an agreement to stay in the bases they’ve woken up in. Doc reluctantly moved out of Blue base a month ago. Something about not belonging there. Tex didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about but he did it anyway so, Tex didn't bother him.

In the Blood Gulch canyon, Tex was going for her 4th flag capture. Sist- no, _Kai_ , was waiting patiently back at the base, pop music blaring while Florida helps her guard the flag (and maybe helps her belt out to the song at some point. Good job, Florida).

Tex didn’t know what started their little game but she was pretty sure it was Connie, who just leisurely walked into Blue base, grabbed the flag and dashed off with it. Then came the faulty holo-projections.

They couldn’t run their equipment without AI.

If she could run it before, she wondered a year ago, she could probably run it again. Right? _Nope_.

No one was guarding the base. A sniper bullet whizzes past her armored shoulder. Wyoming on the cliffs again.

She whips out her battle rifle, but North covers her and unloads a few sniper rounds in his general direction, knowing that Reginald was too chicken to come up when his opponent knew his vantage point. She runs inside the base.

The flag was right there. She grabs it.

A shotgun cocks behind her. “Haha, _nope_. Back off, Texas.” York mocks.

Tex snorted. “Nice entrance, asshat.” She can feel the shotgun press against the back of her armor. Rookie mistake. They aren’t allowed to go for kills; they aren’t sure if they’ll reappear again or die permanently, so they aren’t going to take that chance. However, Tex _can_ deal with _this_. She didn't excel on CQC and hand-to-hand combat for nothing.

She grabs and pushes the shotgun off from her back, kicking low and immobilizing York. She grabs the flag and runs through the base’s exit, full sprinting across the canyon. She hears the sound of explosions, Maine’s brute shot shooting at her general direction. “Eat shit, you bunch of cockbites!” Tex taunted over the explosions.

She makes it halfway back to blue base, flag in her hands and Maine slowly gaining on her, when all at once, Tex felt the whole canyon freeze as a guttural _scream_ pierced the canyon, echoing throughout. She drops the flag, and quickly flips on her BioComm. The visor detects all of them. North must’ve decided to move out of the cliffs by their base to back her up. Kai and Florida are outside the base. York was unconscious in Red base while Wyoming decided to back up Maine, who was just a few yards away. Connie was… behind Blue base… with South? They must have been planning an attack.

She looks toward Maine, who is closest to her. He’s on his knees, holding his head in agony.

They don’t really use this function of their visor. BioCom was for cheaters but she needed to check up on everyone real quick.

There were twelve unknown figures by the upper cave entrances. Who..?

She opens up a link on her radio. Radio links always run down the batteries on these things. Good thing hers were solar.

She feels everyone flinch (including herself) as Florida and Kai’s music blast into the speakers.

“Florida! Turn the fucking music _off_!” Tex shouts. The music shuts off not a second later. The screaming continues.

“Wait a minute. Who the hell is screaming?” Kai asks. Tex sighs in frustration. “It sounds familiar…” Kai trails off.

“ _Anyway_ ," Tex starts, making the frustration in her voice as evident as possible. "Wyoming, North, either one of you check that. It’s coming from a cave up there.” Tex commands.

“Go on then, mate.” Wyoming urges North. Tex rolls her eyes. The North’s end is crackly. White noise takes over.

“.. eah.. ’ll do it… gnal’s… ucked up…  ‘m hangi… up.” North’s radio feed cuts off.

“I’m going after him.” South says. Tex shakes her head then remembers that they can’t see her reaction on the radio.

“Don’t be _stupid_ , South.”

“I’m _going after him_. He needs back up. I’m not gonna lose him again. If I do, I’m gonna pin it on _you_ , Texas.” South’s voice is bitter.

“Alright, try not to get killed.” Tex complies. Florida clears his throat, like he’s been waiting to speak.

“Um, is it just me or does that screaming sound kinda like Church?” Kai asks casually. None of the other Freelancers know who the fuck ‘Church’ is but Tex does. And so do Wyoming and Florida.

Tex nearly hits her head with her own gun. _Why didn’t **I** think of that? Wait. What? **Church?!**_

No one noticed when the screaming stopped but Tex could hear herself breathe for a moment (and she’s still not used to that). Everything is quiet.

Tex stiffens in her stance. York walks up behind her. The game is automatically paused. She looks at York.

Gunfire rings out. It comes from the caves.

 


	2. Confronting Your Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Blood Gulch Crew discover that the revived soldiers of Project Freelancer are now inhabiting their canyon. Before they can get away safely, Church starts to freak out and alerts the new residents to their location. Wash and Carolina get everyone out, but Wash stays behind. What is going on with Church, and what will happen to Wash?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an idea by Tumblr user mrfippstuff that SJ and I have elaborated on. Immensely. Also, this was written before a lot of the more recent episodes of Season 12, lol.

Inside of his armor, Wash is shaking, his breathing ragged from hyperventilating. He leans against a wall and coughs, struggling to regain his breath. His vision is clouding up; the steam is blocking his visuals. Figures.

He takes off his helmet. It’s just for a few seconds; he can put it back on later. Wash lets out a sigh. What the fuck is happening? He thought that he was done with the program; that it was all over. That the years of panic attacks, night terrors and having to watch his back were finally put to rest, including everyone along with it. So who the fuck _are_ they?

It _is_ fake, right? But those voices sounded so familiar… and their armor… it’s like… it’s like they really **have** come ba— no. **No**. You can’t think like that, Wash. They’re **dead**. You saw their bodies and you grieved for them and they. Are. **Dead**.

His breathing slows. He wipes off his sweat, slicking back the hair that’s become matted onto his forehead. Accepting the deaths of his former comrades is a weird thing to calm down to, but hey, whatever works.

Wash settles down on his feet, leaning his head back against the rocks. A lot has changed since the last time he visited this place. Life has sprung into the canyon, trees littering the once desolate rocks. Nothing was there before, if he remembers correctly. It hadn’t ever occurred to him that a lot of change can happen to a planet _after_ a war. But hey, it’s been five years, right?

His breath hitches when he hears footsteps, crushing rocks and moving pebbles around their feet. Wash jolts and stands up on uncertain knees, adrenaline pumping, pushing himself off the wall. He re-adjusts the battle rifle in his grip, trying to calm his shaking hands.

A silhouette greets the entrance to the cave, towering over Wash, leaving him to blink and adjust his vision to the sudden darkness.

His instincts kick in; adrenaline propels his rifle up, hands still shaking, and he points the gun at the stranger’s head.

“Stop right there,” he quickly states, with as calm a voice as he can. The dark figure halts in its tracks, immediately holding up its shotgun at Wash. “No sudden movements,” Wash continues, his voice cracking. “Now, tell me who you are.”

***

Everyone hauls ass out of the cave back to the beach entrance to the power plant. Fortress walls were built around it; this place was once a valued energy plant to the UNSC, before it was abandoned after the Great War. They reach the fortress entrance, and Caboose, in front of the line behind Carolina, immediately stops to stare at the slowly rotating blades of the wind generator. Unaware of Caboose’s sudden halt, Tucker runs into him and yells out. Everyone behind similarly follows suit, and a pile-up is created behind Caboose (who doesn’t seem to have noticed).

“Fucking _watch it_ , Caboose!” Tucker spits, angrily shoving the soldier in regulation blue armor. Caboose barely moves from his assault, but instead slides forward towards a blackened wall; the remnants of an explosion. The group groans in pain from the fall, and soon untangle themselves from each other.

After regaining a solid footing, Sarge notices the wall and chuckles, a finger reaching for his helmet as he tries to wipe a tear from his eye. He has a helmet on. Right. “Oh, I remember this place. Grif almost got killed here.” He stands straight and looks around. “Ah, good times.”

“Stupid fuckin’ Meta,” grumbles Grif.

“Hey, _you_ were the one who approached him,” Simmons comments, giving a little chuckle himself. “Who was the one that wanted to prove to Sarge that you were _so_ much better at being a sergeant?” Bitters and Jensen laugh at the thought of Grif, of all people, wanting to take charge.

“Hey, it would’ve worked if I was talking to an actual soldier,” Grif retorts.

Simmons laughs. “But it _wasn’t!_ ” Grif responds with a punch to the arm, causing a smiling Simmons to wince playfully.

Bitters crosses his arms with a smile on his face, his head shaking in disbelief. “Why is it that when you actually _want_ to do stuff, it blows up in your face?”

“ _Your_ stuff blows up in _your_ face.” responds Grif. Bitters cannot believe how fucking weak that come back was.

A voice immediately interjects. “That’s what she said!”

“That was Tucker,” states Caboose.

“We know!” exclaimed Sarge, Grif and Simmons simultaneously. Another round of laughs.

Felix sighs and shakes his head. He cannot believe he joined this group.

Carolina immediately takes a head count. 2, 4, 6, 6 ½, 8, 10, 11… Oh no.

“Hey,” she asks, “Has anybody seen Washington?”

“We thought he was with you, Ma’am,” replies Smith, raising his hand up in salute even as he panted.

“Weren’t you two the last ones to run?” asked Grif, who looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. “Yeah, you _would_ say that, being the slowest of the team,” muttered Simmons. Grif turns to glare at him.

“Maybe he didn’t leave,” Palomo suggested. Everyone turns to look at him. “What? I’m just saying. Weren’t you guys teammates at one time? Maybe he wanted to talk to them.” He shrugs.

For a moment, they are all silent.

Carolina stares at the soldier. He _could_ be right. Carolina wasn’t certain enough. _You know what? Fuck it. He’s right._

“Alright. I’m going back for him. Caboose, you take Church and keep him _safe_.” Carolina grabs the slot from the back of her helmet, sliding it into Caboose’s helmet. Just to be safe. She turns back to the group. “Jensen and Donut, you two take Church’s body to a safe location, preferably up high; that way I can guard him when I get back. Everyone else, get settled, but be ready for when I come back. Someone might follow me and I _don’t_ want you to be sitting on your asses if that happens. Got that?” She pointedly looks at Felix. The gun for hire doesn’t seem to notice.

Everyone agrees; the Reds piss and moan about having to follow orders from a Blue, the Blues grumble about having to follow orders from Carolina, Felix nods in agreement, and the Lieutenants all salute her at attention. Carolina smiles; this new crew should be interesting.

“Okay, now sync.”

Silence. No one knows what to do. Her smile slips.

“I said ‘ _sync_ ’.”

Still nothing. God _damn it_.

“This is an operation, so we need to sync. Now _SYNC!_ ” she commands in a frustrated voice.

“Sync?” Confused by what she was asking them to do but scared of disobeying her, they all repeat her.

She sighs. She’s been with these idiots for a while; why did she even expect anything? “Good enough. We’ll go through this later.”

* * *

 

South Dakota pushes off the smaller rocks, making sure to throw some into the roof of Blue base. Deciding to follow her brother North up here was her decision, yet she can’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t have. It’s what usually happens.

She sees her brother’s armor in the distance, his sniper rifle left on standby near his cover. She grabs it and brings it along.

North is by a cave, his shotgun on his back. He’s… just… standing there. What’s he doing?

“Hey, bro! What’s-” South pauses, staring beyond her brother’s shoulder. Yellow accents, gray steel armor, blonde hair. “Going… on…”

Wash’s aim immediately turns to her. His helmet is on the floor of the cave, his face is covered in sweat.

“Who the fuck are _you_ supposed to be?” South spits out of reflex. She knows who it is. She’s seen that face in the lockers so much that she knows who it belongs to without a doubt.

She looks to her brother, who has his hands up in surrender. He immediately takes a step towards South, trying to cover her.

“Stop moving!” Wash shouts, training his sights on him again. He pulls his sidearm out. The siblings see him fumbling with the latch, hands shaking as he pulls the gun up to aim at South.

“Everything’s fine, now.” North speaks a calm, soothing voice. “We’re not going to attack. _Isn’t that right, South?_ ”

South gets the gist of things, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, sure, no attacking.” She didn’t think that sounded convincing enough but, hey, putting in a little effort in here.

“That’s enough!” Wash’s voice is shakey, cold, and hard. South remembers that. That’s the same tone he used on her last time. “Disarm yourself, and no one will get hurt.”

North nudges her with his shoulder. She looks at him and he nods. They set their weapons on the ground. They both notice other footprints leading into the caves behind him. He must be with a group.

“Alright. Now, kick them towards me.” Wash orders and for a second, South is tempted to snark at him. For another second, she hesitates. She remembers her last words. _Heh. What’re you gonna do? Shoo-_

And he _did_ shoot her. _Famous last words._ _Right. No snarking_. She kicks the sniper towards him and North does the same for his shotgun.

“You happy?” North continues to speak to Wash, understanding what he must be going through. Seeing long-dead comrades just show up like nothing’s wrong is not easy to accept. “Now, I’m going to take off my helmet,” he says while slowly moving his hands up to his head. “Then, you can see that there’s nothing to fear, okay?”

He grabs at his helmet, but Wash immediately lets off a round from his rifle at the tall soldier’s feet. North is unfazed, but he stops to gauge Wash’s response.

“ _Stop that_.” Wash commands. “I don’t need to know what’s under your helmet.” He’s afraid of what lies under it.

“It’s alright, Wash,” North replies, hooking his thumbs under the helmet and gripping it with his fingers. Slowly, he removes the helmet to reveal his sandy hair and light complexion. The helmet is tucked under his arm as North stares into Wash’s eyes, his face in a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. South?”

South gets it. She slowly removes her helmet as well, with a hesitant but cocky grin on her face. “So… This is a bit awkward, huh?”

Wash feels the blood drain from his face. How did they look the same as before? It was like staring into the past; a past full of lies, anger, betrayal and loss. A past he thought was over.

His hands feel suddenly like lead weights, and his arms slowly drop to his sides. As they point to the ground, Wash’s hands cramp up, curling his finger against the trigger of the assault rifle and sidearm. Gunfire riddles the cave floor, between Wash and the siblings, with bullets; North immediately steps in front of his sister, powering up his energy shield. Two panels form in front of him, swirling around and catching a few ricocheted bullets, before shutting down. 3 seconds for two panels; the most he’s been able to do since his “revival”. It was enough.

Watching North activate his energy shield pulls Wash out of his shock.

He sees the gun smoke coming from the barrel of his rifle, the bullet holes in the ground, and North’s surprised face, trying to shield South from harm. Wash’s face pales in realization.

“I- I’m sorry… _I’m so sorry_.” He can’t deal with this. It’s too much. He almost killed them. Again.

He takes a few steps back, dropping the assault rifle and pistol. He stumbles over a rock and falls on his ass with a thud.

South immediately shoves her brother out of the way, irritated by this whole situation. She takes her anger out on Wash. “Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You wanna kill me _again_?!” She takes a few steps forward.

Intense fear wracked Wash’s face, and he tries his best to scoot back. “NO! STAY BACK!”

“South! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” North pulls his sister back with enough force to put her behind him again. A dirty look is shared between the two sibling, ending with South looking to the side, defeated.

After a few long, agonizing minutes, in which Wash just stared at them with dread, paralyzed by the impossible sight of them and muttering nonsense under his breath, North tries calling out to Wash.

“Okay, man, everything’s fine. We aren’t going to hurt you. We just wanna talk, okay? Are you alone?”

A figure flickers beside Wash. North blinks and steps back. _What in the hell?_

There’re plasma pistols pointed at their faces and North freezes. He’s fairly certain that so did South.

North’s breath hitches. Cyan armor, plasma pistols. He gulps. He thought she was _dead_. They _all_ thought he was dead. Apparently not.

She stands up and looks carefully at both of them. North hates that she has a helmet on. He’s desperate to see any kind of confirmation that she’s the real thing. That she isn’t some kind of fake.

“Stay where you are. If you even so much as make a false step towards us, I will _not_ hesitate to shoot you.” The voice behind the helmet commands. Yeah, it’s definitely Carolina. He feels South grab at his shoulder. She knows. They _both_ know that Carolina always follows through with what she says.

She puts one plasma pistol back to her thigh holster and gathers Wash. She easily lifts him to his feet. Wash keeps his eyes on the floor.

Carolina grabs at the nape of Wash’s neck and then… _gone_. “Fuck.” North curses under his breath. She still has her armor enhancements after _all this time_.

“Carolina, come back!” South calls out to them, filling the cave with echoes of her frustrated voice. She moves to run after her but North grabs her shoulder.

“Give them some time,” he says, turning to eye the helmet and gun that were left behind. “We gotta let the others know about this.”

* * *

 

Back at the power plant, the sim troopers, along with their lieutenants and Felix, settle into the area, separating into their usual Red and Blue teams. The Blues decide to remain on the beach, while the Reds remain just within the entrance next to the giant spinning fan. Despite receiving orders from Sarge to “bury the blue robot’s body so as to leave the Blue team at a tactical disadvantage”, Jensen and Donut instead decide to bring the robotic body up onto the fortress wall, where Carolina was sure to get a good view of both parties.

Jensen moves back to the group, settling back against the wall near the archway entrance. She’s only ten feet away, and already she hears her COs arguing amongst each other. They do that every now and then and it can last for quite a while, depending on the topic. The longest an argument has ever lasted, as she’d encountered, was for about an hour. She feels like these guys could stretch it out for _longer_ than that, too. It can be amusing to watch, honestly, but sometimes she can’t help but cringe and think to herself, _don’t these guys_ _ **ever**_ _get along?_

“They look like they’re having fun, aren’t they?”

Jensen jumps a bit at the sudden voice. She almost chokes on her spit (for the nth time that day). “O-oh, hey Donut. What were you saying?” She says, coughing a bit.

“Simmons and Grif,” Donut replies with a big smile evident in his voice. He’s standing the archway, having come back from hanging out with Caboose. “It’s how they have fun together.”

Jensen looks to her captains. Simmons is slightly mounting Grif in an effort to try a choke hold. She looks back at Donut. “I-I don’t think that’s _really_ how they have fun.”

“Nah, trust me; I’ve been with these guys for a while now. They’re _totally_ in love with each other. They just like monkeying about a lot. Like this one time, in Blood Gulch, I saw...” Donut was about to go on a big monologue about Simmons and Grif, and what he’s seen when they thought no one was around, but at that moment, he hears Caboose and the Blues shout out. Turning around, he spots movement coming from the cave exit; dark grey armor with blond at the top. He’d recognize that body anywhere. “Hey guys! Carolina’s back!”

Carolina stiffens up as she re-adjusts her hold on Washington. She sees the sim troopers move to help her. “Hold it _right there_.” She says in the most authoritative voice she could muster up.

The sim troopers freeze in their steps. She feels her voice catch up in her throat. _No,_ she thinks, _don’t hesitate_.

She attempts to soften her voice. These guys don’t really like when she gets all, in their words, _psycho loner bitch_. “He doesn’t need you guys fawning all over him. I’ll tell you when you guys can go check up on him.”

Donut looks among their group. Equally concerned looks are passed between all of them. Donut gives a reluctant nod and watches Carolina drag their companion to the side.

***

Carolina holds Wash upright, leading him to a nearby rock, and urges him to sit down.

His eyes are wide in shock and he’s hyperventilating. “You gotta breathe, Wash. Calm down.” She mutters to him, wiping at his forehead and face as it forms bullets of cold sweat. He’s shaking. His chest rattles, and suddenly sweat isn’t the only thing wetting his cheeks.

He sobs, his face returning its color. Carolina doesn’t hug him. She can’t, really; armor isn’t exactly comforting. She grabs his hand and cheek instead, hushing him. She hopes the simulation troopers haven’t noticed.

She looks behind the rock, directly at the group. They look away simultaneously. Caboose and Tucker look at each other and looks at her general direction with concerned looks on their faces. She signals for them to wait and directs her attention back to Wash.

Wash is trying to keep himself down, muffling his sobs with a hand. Carolina grabs that hand and takes it atway from his mouth. “ _I said_ , you have to _breathe_ , Wash.” she commands. Wash has grown increasingly stubborn over the last month and she thinks it’s because of Chorus. Not only is she not his leader anymore, she kind of _did_ not explain her plans and left them without any warning.

Wash forces his breathing to slow down, his wracking sobs lessening to hiccups. “It’s… them. It’s _really_ _ **them**_ , boss. They showed me their faces… North and South and... _Oh god._ ” Wash turns to look at her, horror on his face. “I _killed_ her.” He remembers. Everything. He always does but that same realization has come to him for the upteenth time since he’s actually done it. It always shakes him to the bones to remember the fact that he shot her in the face out of in cold blood. That as much as he hated her for shooting him in the back, as much as he was so fucking _done_ with the project, he shouldn’t have shot his friend.

“ _I almost killed them_ _ **again**_. Oh god, I almost _**shot**_ _them_.” He’s aware of the pathetic quiver in his voice. The cracks from his dried up throat. He doesn’t care. Carolina does her best to console him, wiping his tears away with a thumb. She breathes out. She didn’t notice she’s been holding her breath.

“I know,” She says. She forces the trembling in her voice away. She can’t seem to do the same with her arms. “I was there, Wash. I saw them.” She didn’t know about what happened to South though. She has to ask him sometime.

Carolina stands up, tells him to clean up and calm down. She turns to the sim troopers. They stare back at her. She sees the concern in their body language. She walks up to them and turns to Felix, who was approaching her.

“I guess you’re right; they _are_ the missing Freelancers,” she says, a bitter tone in her voice. Felix hesitates in his steps. As much as she’s surprised or even slightly delighted by the news, she sees just how shaken up Wash is about this predicament. And then suddenly, she’s not all that happy about it.

She looks towards the others. They’re expecting a ‘go ahead’. She sighs. “Don’t crowd him all at once.” She says before going inside towards where Church’s body was put.

***

Sarge and Donut don’t hesitate to run to Wash immediately after Carolina walks off. Tucker looks at them and wonders what he missed when they were in Chorus. “Hey guys, wait up!” Tucker falls back five steps behind them. He doesn’t move any closer.

Sarge crouches in front of Wash. Wash is trying to calm down, taking deep breaths.

“How you holdin’ up, son?” Sarge asks and Tucker swears, this is the softest he’s heard Sarge say something _ever_. Wash huffs and Tucker is fairly sure that it’s a laugh if he wasn’t wiping at his eyes.

“Better than you’d expect,” Wash says with enough amusement in his voice to signify that, yeah, he can go on. Sarge takes off his helmet and gives Wash a simple smile. He reaches out to rough up Wash’s fucked up hairdo. “Good to have ya back, son.”

Donut is checking over everything. Wash tries to push him off but he freezes and yawns instead.

Tucker thinks he looks like a cat.

“I’m,” Wash pauses for a bit, cringing at the taste of his own mouth, “‘m fine, Donut. I just freaked out a lot…” He reassures the soldier in lightish red. Donut hesitates for a bit and stops fussing.

“You should get some rest.” Sarge says, grabbing at Donut’s shoulder. He’s going more on telling Donut to leave Wash alone than to tell Wash to sleep. Wash doesn’t even hesitate. He just leans on the cold shade of the rock and nods off.

Sarge and Donut nod to him as they go back to the group. Tucker hesitates to approach the rock but he goes anyway. Just to see if the guy’s okay. That’s exactly why he’s going. Shut up.

“Hey, Wash.” Tucker greets the half-conscious former Freelancer, leaning against the rock. Wash doesn’t open his eyes but leans his head towards where he hears Tucker’s voice and hums a greeting. He raises an eyebrow.

Tucker reaches down and fixes the blond hair. Wash doesn’t seem to mind, leaning into the hand as much as he can. “You gonna be okay?” Tucker asks, thinking that Wash’s answer was, as usual, going to be a ‘yeah’.

Instead, Wash shrugs. “Maybe. My luck hasn’t run out so far.” He mumbles and suddenly, his breathing evens out. _Lights out,_ Tucker thinks. He gives Wash’s hair one last look and deems it appropriate enough before standing up, and then he leaves.

***

“Everybody come to the wind generator. We need to talk.” Carolina says over the radio.

“The what?” Grif asks. Static sounds over his end of the radio. Then a yelp.

“The-” She sighs. “The ‘giant spinning blades of death’.”

“Ohhhh, okay.” Tucker replies.

The sim troopers cluster around the generator in semi-circle around Carolina. The Reds are on the right, the blues on the left and their lieutenants in between. Felix has already heard the plan, and is currently up on the wall with Church’s body, keeping watch on the cave entrance. Carolina looks up at him; he nods back. Good, no sign of hostiles.

She addresses the group in front of her. “Okay, so here’s what you need to know.”

“They _are_ the soldiers of Project Freelancer, and now they know we’re here.” She hears groaning from Grif and Tucker and, surprisingly, Bitters. She glares at them.

“So what we need to do _now,_ is gather our resources and secure this power plant. Go around and gather up what you can to make blockades. Find any extra ammo-”

“Not it!” Grif quickly declares. Carolina ignores him and continues. “-weapons, medkits and miscellaneous stuff that we can use. Nobody goes outside the walls.”

“You will all be in teams of two to three. I will choose these teams based on all I know about you.” The sim troopers all talk amongst each other, nervous about the fate that awaits them.

“Uh, how about you let _us_ do the picking?” Tucker suggests. Everyone looks at him. He glares back at them, then looks back to Carolina. “I mean, you _have_ been hanging around with us for a while now but, you haven’t really seen _all_ of us communicate in battle.” He says, motioning to the lieutenants. The lieutenants nod, looking at each other.

Carolina had already listed the teams together in her head but she nods anyway. As long as it doesn’t give her trouble.

“We need to be ready for whatever comes. The Freelancers in the canyon were all my and Wash’s former comrades, so I know everything that they’re capable of. For now, we’ll wait for them to make the first move, and during that time I need you all to be in top form. No monkeying about. Is that clear?!” The lieutenants salute, some of them (Bitters and Palomo) more half-assed than others (Smith and Jensen). Caboose puts up the wrong arm for a salute and there’s a slight bounce to his stance that just screams ‘excited’. Sarge cheers. Simmons is already walking off to look for ammo. Grif follows him. Tucker looks around the group; Carolina is assuming that he’s listing teams already.

She nods at them. “Good. Now get to work. We don’t have much time.”


	3. Planning the Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Freelancers plan their next move. Well, you can't say they're fighting. They're really just bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Little old Philippines took a hit from the storm and I was without electricity and water for daays. Anyway, thanks to mrfippstuff for the AU idea. In collaboration with aplatonicjacuzzi.

* * *

 

North picks up Wash’s helmet and battle rifle, while his sister, South, goes over to pick up their guns. He sticks the rifle on his back and examines the helmet. A darker shade of Wash’s usual steel, made for the new set of armor, sloppily painted yellow accents and the faint smell of blood and gum.

He turns around and heads out the cave. South follows him, silent. They’ve yet to put their helmets on.

North was too distracted to even register they were there, so he ends up surprised when he bumps into Tex, who was a head shorter than him. North blinks at the whole crew, some were fumbling by the cliff side. They all probably heard the gunfire from the caves and came as quickly as they could.

She steadies him, holding him at arm’s length. She checks for injuries.

“What happened?” She asks. Not even an ‘Are you okay?’, or ‘Are you hurt?’. Same old Tex.

North raises Wash’s helmet. Everyone stares at it. Silence hangs among the group; they’re waiting for an explanation. South sighs impatiently behind him.

She shoves past her brother, a glare exchanged between them over her shoulder. “Wash and Carolina were here. There were other footsteps heading into a cave; enough for a squad. Either that, or the two of them have been coming back and forth recently.” South snorts.

Tex rolls her eyes under her helmet.

A text prompt appears on their screens. Maine.

> _Where’d you think they went?_

“I have a guess or two,” replies Tex, in a smirking tone, as she rolls her shoulders. Maine grunts in acknowledgement, fidgeting in his stance. The sudden movement knocks York, at the edge of the cliff, off-balance, and he yelps while grabbing onto Maine. He gives Maine a one-eyed glare and a light shove. Maine doesn’t move an inch and ignores the shorter man.

South grows impatient. “Should we follow them or what? Because I’m sure they won’t be too hard to take out if we all went.” South’s fists clench around her shotgun in anticipation. She can’t wait to get out of this shitty canyon. Can’t wait to get into a  _fight_.

“That doesn’t sound like a logical idea,” states Wyoming, slightly amused of her attitude. Everyone turns to look at the old man in white armor. “Poor chap. You must’ve scared him quite badly if he dropped his things on the way out.” He says, motioning to the helmet in North's hands.

“Yeah? Well _good_ ,” South coldly states, “Serves him right for fucking shooting me.” She feels a push against her shoulder, courtesy of her brother. They share a glare between each other again. As if having an argument between each other, South rolls her eyes and breaks the contact, huffing.

“So, what are we going to do about them?” Connie interjects. Everyone turns to look at her, the small suit of armor behind York. York scooches  _away_  from the cliff, leaning against the wall. “We can’t exactly ignore them, right? They’ve gotta be planning  _something_  out there.” She suggests. Tex can’t say she disagrees.

Tex thinks, looking out at the canyon. The faint sound of music is still playing from [Blue base](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eHK_KsXm1actuIx3HMIzrpqbJiEfGSpvPmSBVuWkXCY).  _Wait_ …  _that’s it!_  “We’re all heading to Blue base,” she states, with authority and a smile mixing into her voice. “Doc should have some information about the place. Once we’ve got a plan, we move out.”

“Gah,  _finally_ ,” groans York, running to the front of the group as everyone starts heading down. “I was getting  _bored_  of Capture the Flag.”

“That’s because you were losing,” retorted North as a matter of factly, as he slides his helmet back on. Wash’s helmet, tucked under his arm.

“Hey,  _you_  try taking on Tex by yourself. It wasn’t easy, okay?” York retorts over his shoulder, walking backwards for a second before almost tripping on a rock, then turning back. He prompts his arms behind his head, in a relaxed pose

Tex snorts, pushing York in the area between his shoulders. This causes York to almost trip yet again. “You can take on  _anyone_  and still lose, you fucking loser.” She taunts.

York flips her the bird from over his shoulder.

***

“Back so soon?” Florida asks Tex, helmet off, as York tries push past Florida, into the base. Florida grabs at his arm, keeping his smile up and looking at Tex. He tightens his grip around  York’s arm. “Is the game over, Tex?”

Tex looks at York’s arm and nods. “Yeah, Flowers. Game’s over.” She says, pushing past him. She’s a head taller than him and she can easily glare him down but no one ever glares Florida down. The smile stays when he wants it to.

Florida enters the base with her and the others, and begins to clean up a bit. He works fast, diligent. The music volume is lowered down and he goes to put Doc somewhere he can’t bother anyone. “No,” says Tex, pointing at Florida. Florida looks behind him, hands still on the medic’s shoulders. “Doc stays. We got a lot of questions to ask.” Florida visibly stiffens, then relaxes, and turns Doc back to the group.

“Doc,” Tex calls out. The medic turns to her, leaning into Florida.  _He’s intoxicated_ , Tex thinks. Her helmet smells vaguely of oranges, as the air inside the base filters in. “Doc, when was the last time you were at the power plant?”

“Huh?” Doc says, dazed. He blinks. “ _Oh_ , you mean that facility with the giant spinning blade thing?” Doc says, he slides down on the floor, leaning on Florida’s knee. “Well, the last time was, like,” He pauses, looking down to his fingers, counting. “, five years ago, I guess. Wait. Why?”

Tex crosses her arms against her chest plate. “We found Wash.” She says, looking directly at Doc.

Doc straightens in his seat, head snapping towards her. “Really? They’re here? Oh, man. Are they okay? How did they do on Chorus? Did that Felix dude help them?” The smile grows on his face after every question. Tex takes a deep breath. She doesn’t know who the  _hell_  this ‘Felix’ guy was. She stares at Doc’s smile and sighs. Even if she doesn’t like Doc and didn’t really have a  close relationship with the guy, she honestly doesn’t want to disappoint him.

She looks towards North, her hand stretched out. North passes the steel helmet to her. She tosses it in front of Doc. “We encountered him and Carolina in the caves, but they ran away. He didn’t seem too keen on meeting” ̶ North cuts in, motioning to all of the former Freelancers ̶“ _us_  again.  _Carolina_ , on the other hand, was just plain, well...” North gestures, looking for the right word, “...protective.”

“Carolina was there? But I thought she…” Doc pauses, confused. Then, he sighs and shakes his head. “You know what? Never mind.” The Freelancers look amongst each other but collectively shrugged it off too.

Doc picks the helmet up and holds it in his lap. He looks back up at Tex and snorts, “Well, what’d you expect? A surprise party? He kind of actually thought you guys were  _dead_.” Tex feels the pressure over her head. Yeah, everyone was still not too hung up about the ‘being supposed to be dead’ issue.

Tex opens her mouth to talk but Doc continues, “See, I know you guys were friends, but... you actually  _did_  kind of leave him behind. Like, y’all got caught up in your AIs and staying alive. And trust me, I  _know_  the feeling of getting left behind, a  _lot_. It’s not a good feeling. To get forgotten by people.” Doc stares off, getting quiet.

North flinches. At Doc’s point about leaving people behind and about getting left behind. North left Wash behind, in efforts to save his twin and his “precious little AI”. Look where that got him.

Tex growls under her breath. “ _Doc_ , focus. I know we’re all pieces of shit but we really need to find out how much you remember about the power plant.”

Doc ignores her, a bitter smile on his face. “Yeah, he probably either feels guilty that he’s had to kill some of you or, he’s indifferent and doesn’t give a shit because he’s moved on. I’m betting more on the former since he left  _this_  behind.” He rambles, holding the helmet up to examine it.

Tex steps forward, her breathing heavy. Fucking  _enough_  already. Florida steps in front of her. “ _Move. Back._ ” She says, staring Florida down. Florida complies, his body stiff. On the verge of going against orders.

Tex grabs Doc by the armor, easily lifting him up to his feet. “Listen here,  _Doc_. I don’t have time for your drunken bullshit. We  _really_  need to get out of this shithole and find the original assholes that used to live here so we can find out  _what the **fuck**_  is happening.”

Doc gulps, staring directly at Tex’s visor. His feet can’t find the ground. “Uhh, what was the question again?” He asks, voice shaky. He looks down to his feet and looks back up. The height seems to high.

Tex’s grip on the armor tightens and so does her voice. “ _How much. Do you remember. About the energy plant._ ” It’s not even a question anymore, no, it was more of an order. Doc’s visibly shaking now, his vision clouding. He shuts his eyes, leans his head back. Now is  _not_  the time for tears.

“I ̶ uh, I don’t ̶ It’s been  _five years_ , Tex. I don’t really remember much about it. That was like, when I still had O’Malley in my head, remember?” He stammers out. York steps forward, putting a hand on Tex’s arm. A subtle way of saying ‘put him down’. Tex complies. She lets go of the armor and steps back, clenching and unclenching her fists, feeling the bones and joints creaking and popping.

Florida catches Doc, easily and gently settles him onto the floor. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to calm himself and Doc. He resists glaring at Tex and tries to calm Doc down a bit. Doc complies.

York speaks up. “Okay, so you said you were hosting the Omega AI, right?” Doc nods, swallows and takes a deep breath. “I had him for exactly a year.” Doc says.

 “Right. Well, how did  _you_ , of all people, end up with  _him_?” York asks. North elbows him because, yeah, that was  _kinda_  rude.

“Oh man, that’s a hell of a story.” Doc smiles sadly, a hiccup escaping his mouth. “I kinda miss him, actually; he really grows on you after a while.”

“Is this really necessary?” Tex asks, irritated at York for bringing up her AI because  _no, he **doesn’t**  _grow on you.  _At all_.

“Hey, do you want me to remember the power plant or not?” Doc says in a confident voice. Tex glares at him and he immediately deflates.

Tex sighs. “Fine, just hurry it up.” Maine and Wyoming are visibly disgruntled about the news of having to wait and listen. Both white-armored men sit by the door of the base. Connie was sitting next to them, just plain  _bored_.

“Ooh, this sounds interesting.” York pulls up a random crate to sit on. North joins him, while South moves over North and places her hands on his head, resting her chin. “Yeah,” comments South, “You’re probably the only other person to experience Omega and  _survive_ , besides Tex here.”

“Actually, O’Malley jumped to everyone in the canyon at one point. Caboose probably had him  for five months at best. He  _really_  didn’t want to go back to Tex for a while.” Doc explains. York almost makes a comment but shuts up when he sees Tex look at him.

Everyone is listening intently as he retells the adventures of the former inhabitants of the canyon. Tex lets herself smile at some fond moments, reminding herself that she has a helmet on. She’s wary of the way Florida keeps glancing at her though.

“So anyway, there was me, O’Malley, and a decapitated robot head named Lopez, and…”

***

About an hour passes; Doc’s story about O’Malley constantly make the Freelancers chuckle, from his kooky “end-of-the-world weather machine” plan (“How did that Church guy end up in front of himself?” asked a perplexed Connie), to his interactions with Wyoming (“Hah! You were his  _bitch_ , Reggie?” South teased, and North almost losing his cool, shoulders shaking from stifled laughter), to O’Malley’s “day of victory” plan in the power plant (“That’s what happens with dumb AI,” said York, smiling, who shook his head knowingly, “They’re  _way_  too literal”), and his rousing speech to the robots in Spanish.

At that point, Kai had joined in and served drinks to the others, and did a spit-take that covered Maine in orange juice and alcohol. “He said _WHAT?!_ ”

Her translation of it garnered even more laughs from the gang, including Doc but especially Maine, who thought to himself that her translation was shoddy at best. “Oops,” said Kai, whose face was red from laughter and maybe a little too much booze. “That was totally my bad, I’ll get you a towel.”

“And then there was this one time when we were called by the Blues to diagnose one of their men, and he turned out to be pregnant! And I was like ‘whoa what the fuck, a  _man_ got pregnant?’ I was really fascinated by it but I guessed O’Malley wasn’t interested enough because when I started the operation, he kind of just… went away.” Doc trailed off, rubbing a bit at the nape of his neck, the lack of patch. The lack of proper standard procedure to have an AI. A conscious  _controlling_  AI fragment, at that.

The Freelancers don’t notice Doc’s zoned out state and talk amongst themselves for a moment. North leans back on his sister. “I’m  _still_  not sure how the guy got pregnant.” York elbows him on the ribs and North responds to this with a hand pushing at York’s face.

South bonks their heads together. “Shut up and listen to the story, idiots.”

“Actually, I think that’s good for right now,” said Tex, who never thought she’d hear so many embarrassing stories about her AI. She knew he was pretty nuts, but  _wow_.

“Oh, come on,” Kai protested. “He was just getting to the part where I came here, and  _man_ , he gives a GREAT Physical-”

“I said  _enough_ , Kai!” Tex interjects before the girl embarrasses herself further, slamming her fist against the cold, steel wall. Kai leaps back in surprise, falling backwards into Maine. This time he’s ready; his large arms partly outstretched, he lets the girl fall back into him and catches her, wrapping his arms around her waist until she regains her footing.

“Whoa, my bad, dude!” apologizes Kai, steadying her balance.  “Nice catch though, thanks.” Maine growls in acknowledgement, releasing her. She doesn’t move an inch away and decides to make herself at home on the larger soldier’s [lap](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1UssV08X7ciKY8PZjSSz9_ibJduYYczWfb6ktOnWNjaQ).

Doc breaks out of his trance. “Wha, what? Oh, I’m sorry; was having one of those moments. You know.” He reaches back, again, rubbing at the nape of his neck. The previously implanted Freelancers resist the urge to mimic his movements.

“Glad to have you back, Doc.” Tex responded sarcastically. “Now can we  _please_  get the fuck on with this?”

“Uh, where was I?” Doc asks, looking at York, South, and North, who have been listening very closely. York was about to tell him when Tex holds up a hand.

“Never mind, Doc. Story time’s over. We’ll do this another time.” She says firmly. Doc gulps and nods, looking down at the floor.

“So, what’s the next step?” asks Connie, who casually sips on her non-alcoholic drink. “Don’t tell me this whole meeting was called just to listen to a surprisingly entertaining story.” She raises her glass to Doc, who gives her a sheepish smile.

“Of course not,” replied Tex, with her fist clenching in anticipation. She needs to  _move_ , “But since  _little miss tipsy_  found it necessary to pass out drinks ̶” she gestures to Kai, who was seat on top of a few stacked crates; she gives a drunken, happy smile to the group  ̶ “I need everyone back here in a few hours  _sobered up_. North and I, on the other hand, we’ll be going through the recording of Doc’s stories to establish what the place looks like.”

“Remind me, dear Tex.” Wyoming cuts off, “Why can’t we just send a recon team to spy on them?” he asks, raising a glass towards Tex.

“Because that’s what Carolina will be expecting. We can’t take that risk just yet.” She snaps back.

“But those guys you’ve been talking about don’t sound too difficult to handle. So what’s the risk?” York asks.

“The  _risk_  is that she could have had them whipped into shape since the last time I saw them, which, need I remind you, was 2 years ago. We all know what a hardass she can be.” Tex glares at the tan armored soldier.

“ _Most_  of us know,” Kai comments cheerily, who extends her arm out to Maine with a drunken smile. “Hey big guy, d’you mind?” Maine looks up at the yellow, pixie-like soldier with his usual furrow-browed stare. A deep sigh, and he takes her hand.

“Thank you!” she said in a sing-song voice, dropping down onto her boots… with the rest of her following suit. She yelps and flails her arms out for balance. Before she could hit the floor, Maine quickly uses his other arm to catch her by the chest-plate.  She struggles to keep herself upright, but gives up and slumps in Maine’s arms. The hulking white-armored soldier keeps her steady.

“Okay, Maine, you and Florida take care of Kai and Doc. Come back after that.”

Another deep sigh. Maine looks to Florida, who flashes him a smile as he helps up the medic. “Welp, let me show you around Blue base while we’re at it.” The two of them disappear down into the lower parts of the base.

“Everyone else, you’re free to go, but  _stay within the canyon._  I want all of you within range of the radio signals when needed.”

The Freelancers give flimsy salutes to answer her but Tex knows that they’ll follow orders.

***

After everyone sobers up, the room seems quieter. Now, almost everyone has taken a seat on what they can find, save Maine, who stands in between Doc and Kai, and Wyoming, who’s leaning against the metallic wall behind the rest of them.

“Okay, so here’s what we got based on Doc’s description of the place.” She pushes the table in front of the Freelancers.

It was a 3D model of what looked like a wind generated power plant, made out of wood, pieces of scrap metal from a robot kit and spare car parts North found downstairs. York whistled and Connie stared closely at the details. North swatted at her, saying ‘staring is rude’. She responds with sticking her tongue out at the twin.

“Where’d you get skills like that?” York asks. He holds his hand up. “Hold that thought,  _when_  did you even learn  _how_  to do that?”

“Does it matter?” North asks, giving York an intimidating look. York holds his hands up, immediately surrendering. “Nope, of course it doesn’t. I’m  _so happy_  we have a neat-looking 3D map on the table now! Totally helps!” York rushes his words and gives a nervous chuckle. South snorts and hits him upside the head. He winces.

After a moment of contemplation, Kai gasps and makes a run for the lower levels. She  _knows_  she’s seen these building formations somewhere. The Freelancers, save Florida, pay her no mind. She comes back and puts on the helmet.

She pants, and looks through the files. “Guys!” She says, trying to compose herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The Freelancers look at her. “I’ve seen that map before! I have an actual, 3D, computerized copy of it  _right here_!”

Tex pushes the table aside and steps towards her. “That’s great! Send it to us!” She says, greatly surprised that Kai had something valuable to contribute. It’s just one of those genius moments.

“Uh...” Kai freezes. “How?” The Freelancers let go of the breaths they’ve been all holding.

Connie smiles and steps forward. “May I?” She asks politely for the helmet. Tex lets her. She doesn’t want to reveal her face just yet. Just, not yet, okay? Never mind bad helmet hair or something like that. She just, she didn’t want anyone to find out what she might have looked like. What she actually turned into since waking up. Even though only Connie, Wyoming, York, North, and Florida knew what she really was.

Kai mumbles a ‘go ahead’ and gives the helmet to the smaller woman.

“Oh, man these are really specific maps.” Connie comments, her voice wandering as she explores the maps.

“Just send it to us.” Tex growls out before Connie even gets the idea of pointing out what’s wrong with their model. She wasted  _three precious hours_  putting that map together.

Her helmet gets a ping and every Freelancer immediately grab for their helmets.

> _Zanzibar Outpost 4-G_

“Oh jeez, I wish you could’ve fucking told us you had this before,” Tex says, with irritation in her voice. A few of the soldiers snicker.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize this was the place you wanted to find.” Kai apologizes, genuinely. Tex freezes, feels guilty and sighs.

“No, it’s fine, just ̶ we got what we need, so go sit down somewhere.” She looks around at the group. There’s a smile in her voice.  _Finally_ , some fucking  _progress_. “So, what’s the plan going to be?”

* * *

 

Washington shivers as he feels something tickle his cheek. He holds up a hand to bat it off. He’s stiff in his armor and his neck is  _killing_  him. He cracks his eyes open and immediately squeezes them shut, not expecting how bright the sun is. There’s a leaf hovering over his face.

He coughs when he tastes his mouth. He ignores it and pushes himself to his feet. He leans on the rock for a moment, waiting for the beach to stop spinning. He looks around for his helmet. Gone. He kind of forgot about that.

He rubs at his face, trudging towards the inside of the facility.

“Rise and shine, buttercup.”, a voice says. Wash looks for the source of the voice. On the top of the fortress wall, sits a very smug Felix, legs spread open on the rocks, head leaned on his armored knee as he stabs the corner of his rocky seat. Wash stares at him. Felix stares back. Wash could actually feel the merc’s teasing smile from all the way down here. Felix being an asshole, as per usual. Wash gives him a stiff middle finger and walks away.

He finds Bitters and Jensen guarding around the entrances in the shade. They’re sitting on a crate. Wash plops down on a crate next to them.

“Hey there, Agent Washington.” Jensen greets. There’s a small smile in her voice. Wash rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“How was your sleep?” Bitters’ voice sounds a bit envious. Wash snorts. There’s nothing to be envious about being able to sleep when the lieutenant finds out the reason as to why he  _was_  tired. “It was enlightening, Lieutenant. Neck hurts like a bitch though.” Wash says with a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. He flinches, but not because of the numb ache but because of what he touched, and what it serves to remind him. The shoves his hand back to adjust himself on his seat.

Bitters nods and continues to sulk. Jensen shifts in her seat. “We were going to see if you were okay but, Sarge and Donut told us not to bother you. I hope that’s fine.” She says, tapping something onto the crate.

“It’s perfectly fine!” Wash reassures, a smile on his face. Both soldiers look at him because, well, it’s rare to see someone who’s normally so  _serious_ , smile. “I mean,” Wash clears his throat when he hears his voice raise an octave. “You don’t have to check up on me. For what it’s worth,” He gives them a sheepish smile, leaning forward. “I was actually as dead as a doornail.”

“That’s a rather unpleasant expression to use.”, says a voice. Wash looks up and blinks the blurriness away from his vision. Carolina walks up, a small smile on her face and her helmet by her side. “Good to see you’re awake. Did you get enough rest?”

The Lieutenants stand at attention when Carolina gets closer. She signals at them to stop that. Not even an ‘at ease’. Typical Carolina. Wash gave her a smile back. “Well, I got woken up by a leaf and I don’t feel like I’m going to puke anymore.”

Carolina nods and glances at the Lieutenants. “You two, keep watch, okay?”The ell tees nod and Carolina looks at Wash. “You, come with me. We had a mission debrief earlier but I didn’t want to wake you up.” Wash stands and follows her back into the facility.

“Since we’ve confirmed if the Freelancers in the canyon are fake or not, I set up a plan so that we can be ready for anything they might throw at us.” Carolina says as she leads Wash down the hall. The walls are rusty, made of metal. The floors are all made of grates and Wash tries to convince himself that he’s used to the clanking of their boots.

‘Being ready for anything’ is basically Freelancer slang for ‘be at your best’. But knowing Carolina, she might have dumbed it down for the Blood Gulchers’ sakes. Might have dumbed it down at, like, ‘all weapons and ammo available must be salvaged’.

“I let Tucker pick out the teams so that they can commune with each other. I assume that’s not a, uh,” Carolina pauses, glances at him. There’s something in her actions that just screams ‘uncertain’. “, a bad idea.” Wash nods. He knows that she’s still uncertain about the guys after all that they’ve been through.

Carolina’s been cutting some slack on being in charge. He’s noticed, of course. He’s more used to her being in charge but he sees when she does it. Like now. She’d have never shared that information if she was taking charge. She wants him to lead, at some point.

She puts her helmet back on, leaving Wash feeling awfully exposed again. She sets her radio on loudspeaker.

“Sarge, have you found any extra weapons or ammo? Anything important?” Carolina barks into her speaker. It takes a moment before Sarge responds.

“ _Sarge here. Donut’s found a lot of grenades in a crate here. Tucker reported in something about a hidden cache of alien weaponry in the open channel. Didn’t think it was a big deal. I found a couple of assault rifles. Full clips. Barely even rusty, hehe._ ”

Wash wanted the radio to transmit his shocked glare. “How in the hell is a ‘hidden cache of alien weaponry’ not a  _big deal_?”

Carolina sighs. “Sarge, I’ll meet you down by Entrance B. Bring us what you found. Meanwhile, make Donut look for some helmets.”

“ _Okie dokie, ma’am! Did you have a nice rest, Wash?_ ” Donut’s voice cut in. Wash snorted when Carolina’s shoulders sagged in restlessness because of Donut’s overall curiosity, enthusiasm, and wrong timing.

“Yeah, Donut. I had a nice rest.” Wash responded with a fond smile. Donut hummed and cut off his radio. It wouldn’t be good if Carolina started shouting at the pink armored soldier, so it’s a relief that he did.

Carolina begins their trek towards what Wash would assume would be ‘Entrance B’. She’s silent. Wash feels obligated to start a conversation. “So…” Wash starts and,  _god he’s been hanging out with these guys too much, where has your smoothness gone, Agent?_

“...What was the plan again? I-I mean, it’s easy to assume that… they’re just setting up barricades and stuff, I guess. But I don’t exactly… know…” Wash, then, shuts his mouth. A voice reverberates in his head.  _You ever notice every time you open your mouth you make things **worse**?_

Wash feels his throat go dry. “I… I’m sorry…” He mutters to Carolina. The clanking of their armored feet make him flinch.

Carolina hums, in thought. “Well, yeah, that’s basically what I told them to do. There’s no need to be sorry. Once I’ve gotten Jensen to tune an extra helmet into our communications link, you can go tell them what to do.”

Wash stares at her back. No matter how long it’s been from the project, he’s never gotten rid of his obedience. He’s more used to being a foot soldier, well, a more  _effective_  foot soldier. His years as a soldier of the UNSC before the project has told him that, the appointed commanding officer must not be doubted. Or denied. Or questioned. Just, don’t ever talk back to your commanding officer unless they consent. It was fairly easy. Wash wasn’t a very talkative person to begin with.

But having what it takes to be a leader… Wash doesn’t think he has it. Tucker’s definition, by far, has been his guide. And though Church wasn’t the most effective of leaders, he was still followed by the ragtag team of idiots called the Reds and Blues, which Wash needed to do at the moment. He had no choice.

Soon enough, they reach ‘Entrance B’. It’s where Wash and Church hid back when he was still hunting down the Meta. Wash stares at the grates above, noticing the slight hint of rust and the hole in the roof. Sarge is leaning on the wall, next to a pile of assault rifles on a spare rain tarp. On another tarp on the other side, he has a pile of clips. Sarge wasn’t kidding when he found assault rifles, he was just underestimating how much he found.

“Sarge.” Carolina greeted the Red. Sarge stood up straight, nodding back. He reached down to grab a rifle and tossed it at Wash. Years of experience had Wash catching it without a moment of hesitation.

He checks the ammo counter. Full, 32 rounds. He crouched down to observe all the guns. All readings have 32 rounds each. Wash nodded. “Good job, Sarge. Where’d you find these?” He asked, looking to the Red soldier.

“I found them somewhere in the corner of one of those spinny  _thinga-majigs_  in the back. Those things looked important. Donut’s looking around that area as we speak.” Sarge answers.

Carolina hums and nods. “Good work but, see if you can put these weapons somewhere more secure, or in a crate.”Sarge nods and walks off into another part of the building.

“Wash,” Wash looks up when he hears his name. “Stay here and guard these things while Sarge is looking for a crate. Wait for Donut to arrive with a working helmet. You can walk up to Jensen when Sarge gets back.”

“Roger that, ma’am.” Wash says with a small smile and sits down beside the tarp of rifles.

Carolina sighs. “Now, I have to go guard the perimeters…” She trails off. Wash raises an eyebrow “...with Felix.” Wash already feels sorry for her as he watches her leave.

* * *

 

She blinks for a moment, adjusting from the darkness of the cave to the sudden sunlight of the beach. She reviews her mission debrief, the map on her HUD. Then, she pushes forward.

Her trackers detect about four hostiles that she probably can’t get past without any cover. She’ll have to take them out. She discards the thought. She can handle this. She’s under strict orders not to take out any potential hostile. Play a pacifist. She’s here as a diplomat.

But, she has to stay low for as long as possible. Observe.

She looks to her surroundings, looking up at the trees, to the crumbling stone of the walls, to the giant spinning blade, to the waves lapping at the sand. She runs toward the waters. She takes a sharp intake of breath when she feels the cold waters for a moment before her armor adjusts to a comfortable temperature.

She crouches in the water, mindful of the way she’s slowed down in the water. The armor is heavy and she can’t afford to dive into deeper waters and  _not_  float. She checks her trackers. Two red dots to her left.

She crawls towards their general direction, head above the water to see if they’re aware of her location.

“I am telling you, Grif! That’s not what happened! Bitters, don’t believe him. He’s out of his mind.” A voice shouts. She looks at the soldiers guarding the beach. Notices new armor. Orange and maroon.

“Am I, Simmons? Am I lying that you literally took a Falcon back to base because you  ̶ and I quote ̶‘didn’t want to go to the Vegas Quadrant?’” Another voice, the one in orange, says to his partner.

‘Simmons’ turns away from his partner in a huff. “It wasn’t  _my_  fault!”

 _Jesus, they must be married or something. Who fucking bickers like that?_ She ignores their arguments, focusing on her objective.

She crawls far to their left, next to a wall, looking back to see if they’ve noticed.

They have. The maroon one, ‘Simmons’, is walking around the beach, looking around the waters. “I swear, Grif. I saw something! Right  _here_!”

“And you tell  _me_ , I’m out of my mind. I didn’t see  _anyone_.” ‘Grif’ answers. She holds her breath. He looks around, stops on her general direction.

_Alright, you blew your cover._

“Simmons! Over there!” Grif yells. Simmons looks and radios in, sloshing around the waters. “I  _told you so!_ We found someone down to the left side. Please come ASAP.” Simmons says over the open radio channel and rushes over to her.

Grif holds up his assault rifle, pointing it at her. “...do I know you? Wait…” He says, confused. It’s like there’s something on the tip of his tongue. She keeps her mouth shut, keeps her head down. She glances at his form, his relaxed grip on his rifle, Simmons’ sloppy hold on his side arm. Sloppy forms, could be easily escaped.

 _No_ , she thinks. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.  _You’re a diplomat on this mission. **Do not**  hurt anyone._ She opens her eyes. She blinks then, suddenly, there’s a bright cyan glint on the corner of her eye, behind Grif. She blinks and she’s towered over cyan armor.

***

“ _We found someone down by the left side. Please come, ASAP._ ” Tucker looks up from his search and glances at Caboose. Caboose has already dropped the thing he found, a branch connected to a huge leaf (why was he holding that?). Caboose ran, and Tucker ran after him.

Caboose is probably the fastest person Tucker has had the chance to meet. Tucker was lucky to even catch him in a light jog. But he sprinted, and it took Tucker two minutes to get to the beach.

He heard Caboose mutter a ‘first place’ when he jumps into the shallow waters.

Tucker takes a moment to even his breathing and stops altogether. He stares at the person being surrounded by his friends.

He breathes in.

“C.T.?”

Church appears from Caboose’s armor. ‘C.T.’ moves abruptly and gets pushed back by Carolina. “Tucker,” Church says, turning back to him from ‘C.T.’ “You know her?”

“ _Her?_ ” Tucker looks down from the helmet. Same armor. Different structure.  _Shit._  It isn’t him. But… who?

“She’s not the C.T.  _I_  know.” Tucker responds, swallowing, trying to get  _some_  kind of hydration down his dry throat.

“You met a different C.T.?” Carolina asks, her hand hovering right over her thigh holster, eyes pinned onto their hostage. She’s talking to Tucker.

“Yeah! Me, Caboose, Grif and Sarge were all there, remember? Epsilon! You were there  _with_ us.” Tucker says, trying to convince his friend. Epsilon’s holoprojection flickers from his normal bluish hue to Delta’s green and back to his normal blue.

“I can’t seem to recall just…” He hears the AI give something close to a sigh. “Just, give me a few minutes.” Church, then, disappears entirely, back into Caboose’s storage unit.

Tucker looks to Carolina for an explanation.

Their hostage takes a deep breath. “I guess I should start talking.” She chuckles.

 


	4. Reunion Party (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew meet up with the intruder at the shores and a lot of drama happens, unfortunately (or, the opposite, for some).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man. It's been SO long. We're both extremely sorry that we took too long. Nick has been busy with moving boxes and I've been busy with school. A lot of this caused is to either get too tired to write or completely shoot the breeze and relax for the time being. We decided that chapter 4 had to be cut off and now we're releasing the first part.  
> This arc is a bit too far from over, folks! But it's gonna happen! Soon....
> 
> -SJ

******

“So, what’s the plan going to be?” Tex demands, her blood boiling.  _Finally_  there’s some  _progress_  happening.

Hands shoot up immediately. Good; they haven’t gotten  _too_  used to this god-awful place. Doc and Kai stifle their chuckling; the Freelancers all look like they’re back in academy.

Tex points to York. York brings his hand down and scans the room. “Well, if we can send people out, we  _could_  just surround them and get them to surrender. Then we round them up and bring ‘em over.”

Tex snorts. “If you surprise them, you can probably surround them. They tend to huddle up when they know they’re gonna be defeated but they have Carolina and Wash. And that guy that Doc mentioned.”

“Oh, so we’re scared of a random guy, now?” York taunts, knowing some egos in the room will rise up to defend themselves.

But instead of egotistical people, Doc speaks up. “No, you’re scared of  _Carolina_. And maybe defeat and humiliation. It’s called  _hubris_ , guys.”

York turns to give him a one-eyed glare. “Can you  _not_?”

“Who says those two are on the sim troopers’ side, though?” Wyoming retorts. “Maybe they’re just using them.”

Florida speaks up. “Not everyone is like you, Reggie; those two in particular are pretty loyal to their comrades. They would  _not_  pull a stunt like that.”

“Right,” said Tex, nodding her head once in agreement. “So no to that one. Anyone else got something?”

Maine’s fingers flutter rapidly against the arm-mounted type pad. A prompt shows up on her screen.

 

> _We can mount a full-scale assault. Suppress them by force._

“No, Maine. Full-scale assaults are off the list. We  _aren’t_  trying to kill them.”

South, who was laying in the laps of both her brother and CT, sits up to put in her two cents. “What about a fake distress call?”

Florida laughs. “Oh, we did that one to them before; not sure if they’d fall for it again, especially with Carolina and Wash with them.”

A small groan of frustration, and she collapses back against Connie’s thighs with a soft thud. Connie smirks at the childish pout on South’s face, stroking her hair back for comfort.

“You have a plan, Connie?” Tex asks.

She looks up from South and almost feels uncomfortable that everyone’s attention is on her now.

“I have a slightly...  _diplomatic_  plan, Tex.” Connie replies, sitting back.

“Ooh, let’s hear this one!” Doc says, sitting up straight, in attention. South rolls her eyes and sighs. Doc has the nerve to try and glare at her but aborts because South is glaring daggers  _straight at him_. He gulps and turns his attention back to Connie.

“Well, basing on how you and Doc have described them, Wash is trying to mild them down a bit. Especially that Sarge guy who always runs into action even though he probably won’t stand a chance. Most of the people in those squads aren’t trained soldiers, no offense. They have  _spectacular_  ad-libbed plans but, they can still turn their backs on each other. Especially if it’s because they want to save themselves.

“Okay, so Carolina and Wash are with them now and I’m pretty sure they’re  _trying_  to toughen these guys up but  _can’t_. These squads have a special bond that is basically just a domino effect. You take part of the team down, everyone’s going to turn back around and try to help that part again. So, if Wash and Carolina are planning on attacking us and the squads mostly just want to talk to us, let’s just send someone to negotiate to find out. Maybe ask  _them_  if  _they_  want the canyon back without any struggles. If they say otherwise, we’re already here, prepared for an attack.” Connie leans forward, placing her elbows on her thighs for support. She peers up at Tex, awaiting for approval.

“Wait,  _what_?” York interjects. All eyes are on him. “Why the hell should we give them the canyon? They’ve been gone for what, 5 years? The canyon is totally up for grabs at that point.”

“Certainly,” says Wyoming. York tries not to be weirded out that this mustachioed freak is on his side now. “We were here for a year before they came back. That technically makes us residents as well.”

A swift typing from Maine, and a text pops up on their HUDs:

 

> _International Dibs Protocol._

“Oh jeez,  _again_  with the ‘ _dibs_ ’ thing,” commented a disgruntled North. “Didn’t I say that there was no such thing?”

“What?! Of course there’s such a thing!” exclaimed South, sounding aghast that her  _twin brother_  would say something like that. She sits up abruptly and Connie has to dodge South from almost head-butting her.

York, slouched back in his crate, flicks a paper ball at North. “You’re just mad because I called dibs on all the sniper rifles that one time and no one backed you up.”

“Seriously, why the hell didn’t _any_ of you say something?” North said, looking around for teammates that will back him up. “That was  _totally_  cheating!” They all shrug back at him. Florida chuckles.

“Hey, don’t involve  _us_  in your little  _domestic_  disputes,” says an amused Florida.

“Haha, yeah,” cheers on Kai, “Why don’t you guys just go get  _married_  already, or something?”

“Hey!” York retorts, “At least my armor matches my team color,  _dumbass_!”

York immediately sees two hands hook under his arms, followed by an intense growling noise from behind him. “Maine, what the fuck! We’re on the same team!”

“Yeah, because  _that’s_  stopped him before,” Wyoming mutters to the side.

“Oh my god, fucking  _SHUT UP_!”

The room freezes in place, silent.

Maine had York hoisted up in a full-nelson hold, with Wyoming half wincing back, as if he were anticipating a kick to the face. North and South had stopped short of touching foreheads together, and it would’ve looked cute if not for their fists raised up, as if preparing to strike each other. Florida, Kai, and Doc were off to the side munching on popcorn and watching the others fight. They all look to Tex who, surprisingly, wasn’t the one who yelled out. Tex was looking oddly proud at the short girl standing next to her; it was CT, and she did  _not_  look happy.

Connie gave them all a stern glaring. York felt like he was getting in trouble with his mom. “Jesus H Christ, we’re supposed to be  _professional assassins_. The least you could do is act like  _proper,_   _civilized_   _adults_.” She walks up to them. Maine releases York with a slight hunch taking over his shoulders. The twins let go of each other, but not without glaring at each other before parting, of course.

“Didn’t  _any_  of you listen to Doc’s stories, at all?!” She starts pacing. All guilty Freelancers take a step back. “These guys have lived here for  _years_  as enemies. They’ve had their fair share of tragic and nonsensical bullshit from  _our_  program. Apparently, ever since Tex showed up, time and time again they’ve all been roped into shit that they had  _nothing_  to do with. And despite having no time to cope with it, these ‘sim troopers’ have done more as a team than we  _ever_  did, fixing problems that  _we_  should’ve dealt with.” She sighs. She gives Tex somewhat of an apologetic look. Tex waves it off.

“ _Now_  look at us. We were all comrades brought together under a common goal, but out on the field, when we needed each other the most? We’ve done nothing but mess things up, whether it was due to pride, or mistrust, or senseless competition. So how about we show these guys a little  _respect?_ We can’t just take their home from under their feet.  _Especially_ since they don’t have another home to fall back on.”

That strikes a chord with the other Freelancers. Some of them, like North and Florida, look down shamefully. South gives a bit of a huff and turns her head away, arms folded. Despite the scowl on her face, though, she knows that CT is right; she just doesn’t have to like it. Maine goes back to sit down, shoulders hunched over as he leans his elbows on top of his thighs. Wyoming tries to act suave and leans back against the wall, but forgets that he left the wall to join in on the shenanigans, so he falls over backwards. Kai couldn’t help but laugh. Things were back to normal again.

Maine raises a hand up. Connie looks to him and remembers that she only really has to look at her HUD.

> _Sorry but, since you’ve had it all planned out, when are we going?_

The Freelancers go silent. One of the questions that no one ever asks. “Why  _haven’t_  we left this stupid canyon yet?” This question is usually answered with another, direr question; namely, “Where  _do_  we go? All of us are supposed to be dead. All of our outside contacts have either moved on or died, and with no real family to return to, all we have now is… each other." And  _nobody_  wanted to question that.

“That and,” Florida adds, “Who’s going?” They all automatically look to Tex. Tex can’t say she’s tired of getting all this attention but  _she’s fucking tired of it_. She throws her hands up, shakes her head.

“Do not look at me. It’s all  _your_  choice. But,” She shifts her weight on her other foot, “I would prefer if it’d be someone with  _stealth_. Observe them for as long as possible. If we’re not going to get them to agree, we’re going to have to get recon first. Scout all of their positions and determine how strong or tight they are together.” The Freelancers all pause to look at one another until Connie found herself being the center of attention. Doc and Kai sat on the floor, amused at how synchronized everyone was.

“What?” Connie asks and laughs nervously. “I already  _gave_  the idea.”

“Yeah,” South steps away from her brother. “She’s got a point. Someone else is gonna have to do it.”

Wyoming laughs. “Is that a volunteer?” He takes a step back from the volatile twin as she bluffs a punch and turns back around.

“Yeah, South. You  _suck_  at stealth.” York teases. South gives him a glare that he can’t see, being on his left. She settles on stepping on his foot. He yelps and falls to the floor.

“Why don’t  _you_  do it, tough guy?” South taunts then stares at him, deep in thought. “Actually, you  _could_  go. You’d look like the beach. Same color as the sand.”

York stands up and rolls his eyes. “Was that supposed to be a compliment? For your information, I actually  _can_  do stealth.”

“Actually, since she suggested it, she has to commit to it.” Florida speaks up from his position on the wall. “Well, that’s  _my_ opinion. Everyone’s welcome to volunteer.”

“Seriously, Connie.” Tex says, looking at the brown armored soldier rather expectantly. “You’re the only one with that skill level in here. Better to settle your restlessness, right?” She jokes

Connie purses her lips and just stares at Tex.

******

Carolina stares at the figure she’d thought was dead. Outdated brown Freelancer armor standing stiff, knee deep in the cold waters of the beach. The EOD helmet looks around the group, then directly at her. She tries not to think of red floodlights. Of coordinated punches and kicks. Of tomahawks.

“I have a little  _deal_  with you guys. I want suggest you call _all_ the troopers here.” The ghost’s voice sounds through the speakers and  _damn,_ Carolina  _still_  can’t believe that it’s Connie.

“What, and then you’d have a chance at  _attacking_  all of us at once?” Grif speaks up, the hostility thick in his voice. “Nice try, lady. You’re on loud speaker. Now commit to your own words and start fucking  _talking_.”

Connie chuckles and Carolina resists all the flashes of dim red from the corner of her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol,  _Grif_?” She mocks. Grif stands still for a minute, shocked. Simmons looks like he’s rolling his eyes. He mutters a ‘we weren’t exactly quiet while talking, moron’ and it causes Grif to get out of his little trance.

“We’re not short on people for patrols,” Tucker speaks up from behind Carolina and she can’t help but remember that they’re there. They all are. She kinda forgot that fact. “Now stop stalling and start fucking talking already, lady!”

“Alright! Alright,” Connie throws her hands out in surrender. “No need to get your panties in a bunch. Okay, so, our group from the canyon just want you to take it. Take the canyon back. We don’t really have any business there. We just kinda stumbled in when we had nowhere else to go.” Carolina can’t tell if her former teammate was lying or not. She hoped she wasn’t.

A light flickers over Caboose’s shoulder again. Connie stares at it. “Wait, wait, wait.” Epsilon stutters and Carolina can’t say she’s used to the stuttering. “What in the fuck makes you think we’ll just  _take_  it without knowing what the fuck happened in there, huh? This ain’t amateur hour, Connecticut. ‘Fess up.”

“What’s there to ‘ _fess up_ ’? It’s exactly how I said it. Just come back already.” Connie’s body language suggested irritation. Carolina isn’t wondering. She’s honestly annoyed about Epsilon most of the time. Which is half the time. Or… more than half the time. All the time is more than half the time, right?

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and it’s like Epsilon is laughing. There’s nothing to laugh about. “No. No no no no, do  _not_  give me that bullshit. I  _remember_  you guys. There’s  _no_  way that this isn’t some kind of  _trick_.”

“ _Epsilon_ ,” Tucker and Carolina warn him. Tucker blocks the light from Caboose’s shoulder for a moment, and hears Church squeak for a bit. “Stop being so melodramatic and try to  _think_  for five minutes,” the soldier in aqua says, walking towards their hostage.

Epsilon snorts and his hologram makes a motion, like he’s rolling his eyes. “Hey, I can do more thinking in 5 seconds than you can in 5  _hours_ , buddy! My thought processors are  _fine!_ ”

“The point is, the lady’s giving us a free pass back home. What the fuck are  _you_  so worried about?” Grif says, putting a lazy arm around Connie’s shoulders, rifle laying on the other shoulder. Connie doesn’t want to say it’s heavy, but it’s  _pretty_  goddamn heavy.

“Grif, have you learned  _nothing_  in Chorus?” Epsilon taunts.

“What did you say, Tinkerbell?” An amused Sarge walks over, having overheard the conversation. “I can’t hear you over the sound of  _you_ leaving your team in the dust with _Little Miss Teal_ over there.”

“Yeah, and you already  _know_  why I did that, so just get the fuck over it already. Plus, I’m pretty sure  _you_  wouldn’t care, Sarge.” Epsilon’s voice goes down an octave. Carolina takes notice. He’s been doing that much more, recently.

“Ohoho, that’s  _rich_ ,” Tucker comments. “And  _this_  is coming from the guy who took _three whole lifetimes_  to get over his dead girlfriend.”

“What the— what the  _fu_ — What does  _Tex_ have to do with any of this?  _Fuck **off**_.” Epsilon flickers in front of Tucker’s helmet, going black and purple then back to regular blue, hand pulled back as if he was trying to push something away.

“THAT’S  _ENOUGH_!” Carolina commands to the arguing crowd, glaring at them from under her helmet. They all know she’s glaring, that’s why they’re not talking. She’d like to keep it that way. Epsilon flickers back to Caboose’s side.

“Tucker, that was completely out of line. Keep yourself in check, or  _I’ll do it for you_.” The cracking sound of her knuckles informs Tucker that calling out her innuendo wouldn’t be such a good idea. He simply nods in acknowledgement.

She hears footsteps crunching in the sand behind her. She looks over her shoulder, surprised to see neon green clashing against steel and yellow. She reels back for a bit.

* * *

Washington stares at the helmet that Donut is holding by his side. He stares at it with disgust. It looks like how his mouth tastes right now.

“Oh, don’t be like _that_ , Wash!” Donut scolds, crouching beside him, helmet out between them. “I worked hard to look for this helmet! The least I could get is a ‘thank you’!”

Wash sighs and grabs the helmet, turning it over to put it on, seeing if it fit. His head could fit but it’s a bit too loose by the neck. Donut stands up and takes a step back, looking down at him. Wash stares up at him.

“Well? What’re you gonna say?” Donut prompts. Wash sighs. Donut’s tone is becoming a bit too condescending but Wash doesn’t give a fuck. “Thank you for looking for a helmet for me, Donut.” Wash deadpans.

Donut smiles, “That’s better.” He offers a hand and Wash accepts it, pulling himself to his feet. Donut puts a hand to his chin. “It clashes with your armor color though.”

Wash snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah,  _tell_ me about it.”

They walk outside, heading towards Jensen and Bitters. Wash takes his helmet off and hands it off to Jensen. Jensen looks back up at him in confusion.

“Carolina told me to give it to you so you can put in our radio channels.” Wash explains, scratching behind his ear. He and Donut take a seat on the crate Wash was on earlier, as they wait for the helmet. He hears whispers and looks over his shoulder.

No one but Felix.

He turns back to the group. “Uh, hey, do you guys know who Felix is talking to?” He asks. Bitters shrugs.

“He’s been doing that every five minutes for the last few hours. We assume he’s on a private channel with someone.” Jensen says, still focused on her work.

Wash knows she’s done when gives a little cheer to herself. She passes the helmet to the former Freelancer. “Try it out, if you want.” She suggests. Wash didn’t need to be told twice.

“Testing, 1, 2. You guys hear me? Tucker? Caboose? Sarge?” Wash taps at the side of his helmet. “Is this thing working?” Radio silence responds. Jensen looks like she wants to be one with her crate. "I'm sorry, sir..." She squeaks.

“It’s okay, Jensen.” Wash reassures, “I’m sure it’s just this helmet. You can go back to your patrol. Thanks anyway.” He walks away. He glances at Felix as he walks past.

The mercenary pauses and looks at the Freelancer. “Uh, hey there, Wash.” He waves. Wash stares at him. “Nice helmet.” Felix teasingly comments.

“Thanks.” Wash responds sarcastically. “Who’re you talking to?”

“What?” Felix rebukes intelligently. Wash rolls his eyes.

Wash huffs. Was it really  _this_  difficult talking with Felix? Wash can’t recall, because it’s not even three minutes after waking up that he has a migraine.  _Everyday_. “On the radio. I heard you talking ten feet away from here.”

“Me?" He sounds surprised. Mock surprised. It grates on Wash's nerves. "Talking to  _someone_? P-huh- _please_. You must have me confused for someone who likes talking to  _idiots_. I’m making a  _journal entry_.” Why is Felix always so... _theatrical_ and dramatic when he talks? Wash shrugs, still suspicious but lets it go and walks past him.

He makes his way to the group gathering at the other side of the beach, staring at the waves. His boots keep sinking and for a moment, he wonders if he’s gaining weight. Then, he remembers that he’s wearing armor that weighs like, a hundred pounds. He looks back to the group, trudging towards Carolina.

“Hey, guys!” Wash calls out. “No one was answering the radio. What’s…?” Wash stops in his tracks, feels the waves lapping at his boots. He stares at the brown armored soldier between Simmons and Grif. He forgets what he wanted to say. He forgets why he was there in the first place.

A moment of silence, as her faceless goggles stare at his clashing helmet’s visor. Then Connie breaks into laughter, wheezing as she struggles to keep herself up. Grif’s arm drops to his side. “What kind of…” She wheezes, grabbing at her stomach. “Who the hell  _gave_ you that helmet?”

“Yeah dude, that helmet color is fucking awful!” Grif yells, him and Simmons laughing along with her. Grif falls into the water from laughing.

Wash glares at the chubby, orange armored soldier, momentarily distracted from CT. “Hey, this was the  _only_  working helmet in the facility that Donut could find. How in the hell am I supposed to keep in contact with you guys without a radio to use?”

“I don’t know,” Sarge says, “You could always yell. Or use one of those can walkie-talkie things.”

Caboose chimes in, confused. As per usual. “Uh… Where are we gonna find cans? Or string?”

Wash gives them all a sigh. He cannot  _believe_  he tolerates these idiots. More importantly, he can’t believe he let them distract him.

“If we’re  _done_ ,” Wash speaks in a forceful, tired tone, “I would really, _really_  like to know what the hell is going on. CT, what are you doing here?”

“What, no ‘hello’ or ‘ _hey, how’ve you been_ ’?” Connie replies in a light, sarcastic tone. “Are you  _seriously_  going to talk to me  _with_  that helmet on?” She asks rhetorically, chuckling to herself. It’s a bit hard to take someone seriously when they’re wearing a helmet the same color as radioactive waste.  

Immediately, she hears the safety of a gun being turned off and the barrel of a pistol is pointed at her face. She doesn’t react, except to look up at a slightly shaky Wash.

There’s something different about him. She knows it’s been a while since Project Freelancer, but Connie sort of expected the same Wash she knew from years ago; the awkward greenhorn with his cat pictures and curly straws.

“I’m not going to ask again. Speak, or I  _will_  shoot.”

She can hear the difference in his voice, too; it’s a lot more assertive and in-control.

“Wash, what the  _hell_?” Tucker speaks, reaching to put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s  _fine_ , she was trying to work out a deal with us.”

“Oh,  _really_?” Wash looks to Tucker for a bit, gun still up. Tucker tries not to flinch at the tone of his leader’s voice.

Tucker nods, hands out, trying to get Wash to put the gun down. “Yeah man, she was just saying that we can have the canyon back.”

Wash takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. He lowers the pistol but shows his obvious itchy trigger finger.

He looks to his old teammate. Curious thoughts come poking back into his train of thought. It’s like Tex just reported in that CT was KIA and he’s wondering what the hell happened to her. It’s like he didn’t actually know what the hell happened. Like he didn’t look into the filed report of the mission.

Connie’s not showing any of her usual hostile cues. Like stretching or popping out the kinks on her neck and back. He’s almost convinced she’s really here to talk.

But before that, there are more important things he needs to confirm.

“Take off your helmet.” Wash says in a straight voice.

Connie couldn’t stop the snort that comes out when she hears Wash’s tone. “ _Excuse_ me?” She asks.

“Just— just do it. I need to confirm something.” Ah, there it is. The stutter. How nostalgic.

Connie slowly, cautiously, removes her helmet, revealing her face.

Silence. It almost surrounds them as much as the sound of the beach. It's surprising that the sim troopers aren't making a fuss yet. It adds to the awkwardness of the situation and reminds her just how odd Wash's request is, all the more.

Washington pulls off the gaudy helmet as well.

Connie ties a sharp intake of breath, careful not to show emotion. Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? The kind, semi-dorky face that had once adorned Wash’s features has been replaced with the hardened, worn face of a veteran soldier. Bags under his eyes from the remnants of lost sleep, as well as scars that nicked and pocked his cheeks, nose, and chin which now decorate his facial features. A near-permanent scowl that stood out sharp as glass. Faded trails give away traces of old, forgotten tears. Was this the same guy she knew all those years ago?

Without any hint of happiness in his voice, Wash states, “You look the same as you did before. Why is that?”

Connie continues on with her sarcastic streak. “Youlook _older_. Any idea why?” Her right ear rings as a shot goes over her shoulder. Wash glares at her.

Carolina puts a hand on his arm, pushing it down. “Stop that. She’s not here for a fight. She’s here for a proposition.”

Wash hesitates to bring his gun down but, after getting a stern look from Carolina, he complies. Tucker bumps him on the shoulder, "Dude, she's  _hot._ " Wash rolls his eyes but appreciates Tucker's hidden efforts to change his mood.

“CT,” Carolina calls out. Connie pauses for a moment, the name loading in her head, before remembering that it was  _her_  name once. She looks up. “Can you repeat what you just said to us? For Wash.” Carolina seems polite now, much more than she was years ago.

Connie almost wants to sigh and ask if she really has to, but her ears are ringing too loudly. She glances at Wash’s side arm and remembers her words.

She takes a deep breath and speaks. “The others want you to take the canyon back, without resistance. Just take it, we didn’t even live there for  _that_  long.” Connie recites. She lets the information load, looks around if the other soldiers understand.

“Or?” Wash asks impatiently. What he was told about was a proposition, not an offer.

“ _Or?_  Or  _what?!_ What more do you _want_?” Connie asks, annoyance making its way back to her expression. She’s sure a migraine isn’t as far off. Why does  _everyone_  have to be so fucking  _dumb_  today? “We’re already  _giving_  it back to you, no payment, nothing! For free! What do you want? Additional ammo for only 4.99?” She resists emoting, stepping forward or whatever might risk another bullet out of the barrel. She’s not sure where it’ll land this time. Hopefully,  _extremely_  far away from her.

“Yeah, Wash, I don’t know what you guys are so worried about.” Grif says, throwing his hands up. “They’re  _clearly_  giving shit for free. No need to look the gift horse in the mouth or whatever.” Simmons and Tucker state their agreements simultaneously. Connie can barely make out what they’re saying but she thinks it’s a good thing they’re agreeing.

“Well, the nice lady  _did_  offer…” Caboose trails off. Wash looks to Sarge, seeing if the old man had anything to say about the situation. He shrugs and grunts ambiguously. He must be thinking of agreeing but Grif and the Blues agreed. Wash sighs.

Wash looks around and says, “On one hand, it’d be  _crazy_  to just trust the enemy like this.” Wash sighs, closing his eyes for a bit. “On the other hand, we’re not really a group of people running on ‘sanity within _acceptable_ deviations’, to quote an old friend.”

“ _On the other hand_ , I don’t think they’ll do us any harm if we go back with her as a hostage.” Simmons suggests.

Connie shrugs. “Fine, whatever, take me hostage. It wouldn’t make a fucking difference either way.”

“Hold on! What enemy? How are these guys the  _enemy_? I thought you guys said they were your friends!” Tucker steps into the waters, sinking almost immediately.

Connie sighs for the umpteenth time today. “That’s what I’ve been trying to hint at, yeah.” She mutters bitterly.

“She  _was_.” Epsilon blinks into existence above Caboose’s shoulder. The blue soldier stays quiet. Everyone turns to look at the AI. “She just kept secrets, which is, y’know, kinda hypocritical since she ran off from a program that ‘ _kept_ secrets’.”

Connie stays quiet, trying to keep calm. She knows where he got that reference. He’s found the video file.  Epsilon doesn’t know what could have happened. What  _really_  happened. Why she did it and why she risked it.

Epsilon tries to pace, walking between Caboose and Tucker’s spaces. “So, CT, I saw your file for Tex when we went out scavenging for the Director. I can’t say I remember what happened with your plan of turning the project in to the authorities.” Connie feels like he’s looking for a fucking fight. He better not be.

“Well, I  _could have_  turned the project in, if your ‘girlfriend’ didn’t stick a tomahawk into my gut.”  _That and I might have been arrested too._ Connie lets her anger out smoothly, tries not to lash out at a hologram like a complete moron. Seems that Epsilon didn’t unravel  _every bit of information_ like his dumb facade is showing.

“You sound a little bitter. Have you talked to her about it?” Epsilon keeps up his sarcasm. Connie keeps a straight face. If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’ll get.

“As a matter of fact, I  _have_. Why haven’t  _you_? This conversation could have been done minutes, maybe even  _hours_  ago if you haven’t been wasting our time trying to prove something’s wrong when there seriously  _isn’t_! In fact, you could be having your little reunion with her  _right now_  if you weren’t such a huge jackass!” The words tumble out, and so does the anger, she’s shaking, fists clenched at her side.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, Epsilon, I  _know_  the project was fucked up, honestly,  _I_ was the one who started doubting orders and kept secrets to keep myself  _alive_  until I could save my friends from that  _hellhole._  But I got cut off, okay? I  _died_  before doing that. So, I made a gamble and hoped Tex could do  _something_ about it,” She breathes in and realizes that she’s tearing up. Fuck. She breathes out.  _Keep calm, this isn’t what you’re here for._ But she can’t just let this go. “Maybe make things right where I couldn’t.  And you know what? In the end,  ** _I was_   _right_**. You know that, too.”

Wash can’t believe what he just heard. She was the catalyst. The person who started everything that lead to the project’s downfall. That led to ending the project once and for all, successfully. His dejected gaze shifts down to the helmet which his hands were fiddling with out of nervousness.

“I… I didn’t know. All this time, everyone called you a traitor and…” Wash breathes in and out,  _slowly_. “It was wrong.”

Connie understands him enough to know that it was the closest she’d be getting to an apology. Same old Wash. She smiles at his “It’s fine, now. The project’s done anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, we fucking  **get it.** Stop being mushy,” Epsilon says, breaking up their moment together. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

To be honest, Epsilon had no clue of her sacrifice, not even the part where she inspired Tex to rebel against the project. Thinking about it now, though, it made a  _lot_  of sense; how  _else_  could Tex have known about what she was? Or the truth about the Alpha? He briefly asks Delta to set a reminder to thank her later. It’s the least he could do.

“Carolina?” Wash asks, looking to take some of the spotlight off of him. He puts the helmet back on, with a few stifled laughs from Tucker. He turns to kick sand at his teammate, earning a yelp and a push. Connie can’t help but compare them to a bunch of teenagers.

The cyan-colored soldier looks around. Sarge, Simmons and Grif are arguing amongst themselves as per usual, while Tucker and Caboose are making fun of Wash’s helmet behind his back. Wash, Connie and Epsilon are looking to her for confirmation. It’s  _almost_ like old times again. But there’s one more thing she needs to know.

“Hey, CT.” Carolina calls out.

Again, Connie has to remember that she used to call herself that. “Yeah?”

“All our, uh,  _friends_  are waiting in the canyon, right?”

“What, is the task too much for our  _fearless_  squad leader?” Connie teases, a smirk on her face.

“Well…” For the first time, Carolina gives it some thought. “I don’t know.” She shrugs.

 _Now **that’s**  a first_, thinks Connie. Anxiousness wasn't something she'd normally find on Carolina.

“But we’ll find out once we’re there, won’t we? We’ll improvise.” Carolina says, a grin evident in her voice, and she holds out her hand to Connie. “Whatever happened in the past stays in the past. There’s nothing we can change about it. So, let’s try to work things out now, okay?”

The sound of the waves crashing against the golden sand echoes in her mind as Connie contemplates for a moment. The last time she remembers, Carolina had become increasingly reckless as she strived to compete with Tex. Will having them together in the same place again be a good thing?

Only one way to find out.

She looks again to Wash and the sim troopers. Maybe staying with these guys mellowed both of them out some. With a grin, she re-dons her helmet, reaches out to her former captain’s hand and—

The loudspeaker on everyone’s helmet creates a deafening static noise. Someone’s on an open channel. “Ms. Carolina? We’ve picked up two more hostiles from the canyon trying to make their way over to you.” A girl’s voice reaches out to them over the radio, immediately killing the moment. There’s an obvious speech impediment that grates on the radio speakers. “We have them in custody, over.”

“What?!” shouts a pissed off Connie. The regulation Red trooper, Sarge, aims his shotgun at her.

“ _I KNEW IT! YOU FILTHY TRAITOR!_ ” he accuses with his raspy Southern accent. She sees Wash take a step back at the volume of his  _bold_  accusation.

Carolina sighs and withdraws her hand. She’s sure that Agent Connecticut is trustworthy, but if she knows her Freelancers, Tex probably would’ve sent her some backup. “Copy that, we’ll be there in a minute, Lieutenant. Sarge, _please_  stand down.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be polite about it.” Sarge mutters, lowering his shotgun. There’s an evident pout in his tone. Connie squints her eyes at him. What a peculiar old man.

Carolina draws her rifle and turns to head towards the general direction of the lieutenants. “Well, let’s go see who our ‘intruders’ are, shall we?”

The soldier growls in displeasure. Most of it is coming from Grif though.

The group escorts Connie over to the new intruders, with Sarge mumbling and bumbling about “traitors” and arguing with the other red soldiers. Mainly it’s just everyone going against Sarge. Grif swears, when they  _somehow_  got back to Earth?  _Everyone_ needs to commission in putting the senile old freak in a house  _far away_  from any sort of civilization.

The light reflecting off their armor sends glare like beacons for the other group’s destination. Five troops surround the intruders in a delta formation, forming a triangular wall between Carolina’s group and the intruders. Taking point is Felix, who hails Carolina as she and the others draw near.

“Hey! This guy says he knows you!” He says, pointing towards Jensen and Bitters' general direction. “Oh, and this girl said that I’m hot? So, you know, in your  _face_ , Tucker.”

Carolina stops in her tracks, straps her rifle back to its place.  _He_  said that he knows her? Well,  _fuck._  Her stomach drops like a lead weight, and beneath her helmet, Carolina’s eyes are wide in shock. She was not prepared for this. Not yet. She knew she would have to face him ever since she saw him in the canyon, but it just now hits her that  _he is here_.

Connie stands beside her, at first fuming at how those  _idiots_  could’ve potentially ruined everything, but then notices the shaking of Carolina’s hands. Oh. That’s right. In  _this_  universe, as far as Carolina was concerned, York was  _dead_. Maybe she hasn’t had that much closure on that little fact.

Connie reaches out and gently wraps her fingers around Carolina’s.

For a split second, her old leader’s hand jumps, but relaxes as fingers embrace interlock and hands hold each other together in a firm grip. Even when they were sent to highly impossible missions, she has never seen Carolina this scared.  This must be what it’s like to see a ghost.

The Reds and Blues notice their abrupt halt and slow to a stop behind them. Seven meters separate the two parties from each other.

She notices them. Tan armor, talking animatedly amongst a few of the Chorus troops and someone in yellow armor.

“Are you sure you don’t want to, like, hook up?” A bubbly, female voice rings out. The one in yellow armor elbows the one in tan in the stomach. “That scar of yours is pretty hot!”

“Ugh, thanks. Most people would say otherwise. Funny story how I got that though,” There’s the sound of metal colliding with metal as the one in tan rubs at his stomach from the hit. “But  _yeah_ , I don’t think hooking up with anyone is a good idea right now. Well, for  _me_  at least.”

“Oh? Why not?” The woman in yellow asks. She, then, gasps. “Are you sworn to celibacy or something? Oh, shit, I’m  _so_  sorry! I must have been bothering you!”

“Yeah. Wait, what?  _No!_ No. Nothing like that.” The man in tan (rhyme unintended) denies, shaking his head. He gives an airy laugh. “It’s actually because my ex is  _right there_  and she is a  _total_  badass who would kill both of us. But more importantly, me.”

“Whoa, by ‘badass’ do you mean like, ‘badass’ like Tex?” Yellow asks. Tan laughs and nods.  Yellow gasps in wonder, “That’s kinda  _hot_!”

Carolina takes a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. She didn’t expect York to be here, but then again, most things didn’t really go her way when she didn’t plan beforehand.

Time to improvise.


	5. Reunion Party (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After last time, Connecticut gets caught in the middle of her diplomatic mission by some... "intruders". Also, what the hell are those guys in the canyon doing NOW?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got lengthy. Like, 18 pages lengthy and it's STILL not done so... we cut it. Again. Goddamn, this got too long.

* * *

 

The two groups rendezvous in the middle of the white-golden sands of Zanzibar beach. Carolina’s hand briefly squeezes CT’s for encouragement, and lets go. There’s something about the fact that CT didn’t pulled away that fills her with the courage she needed to face someone she said goodbye to. Something about the fact that CT trusted her now more than ever even though she couldn’t... Carolina takes a deep breath and pushes the thought away.

Confidently, she strides toward the two prisoners while removing her helmet. She reveals an icy stare cast at both of them. An audible gulp escapes from York’s throat, and his body tenses up nervously, to her satisfaction. The yellow sim trooper, however, keeps trying to wander off towards the ocean, only to be stopped by the orange-armored lieutenant.

“Dude, what the hell?” The woman’s voice exclaims. “I just wanna take a short dip. What are you like, the weird spawn of a cop and the lifeguard back at home telling me to ‘stop skinny dipping’or something? _So_ not cool. I take it back, you’re _not_ hot.”

“So,” Carolina’s voice begins authoritatively. Her arms are crossed in front of her.

This catches the sim trooper’s attention. “Whadda ya want, bitch? I’m trying to enjoy the sun, here!”

“So,” York parrots, scrambling to pull Kai back next to him in case she gets her ass beat. The tilt to her helmet suggests that Kai is glaring at him but he couldn’t care less. Can’t she see he’s trying to save her life right now (and maybe try to reconcile with his girlfriend)?

He drops his arm when Kai continues to struggle, leaving her to the Scout that’s been doing the _crappiest_ job at guarding them. He looks back at Carolina and breathes.

Six years, seven months, two weeks, and five days since they last talked or spoke to each other. Since he woke up with blood inside his helmet, his tongue missing a chunk, a dislodged tooth, and the dizzying feeling of zero gee as he stared at the lighter hovering within arms length, the one  he got from the bar. The one she took from him with the promise of ‘never giving it back ‘til they part ways’.

Six years, seven months, two weeks and, five days since that day and York still sees that nothing will never ever take away the fact that she’s the most beautiful face he’s ever seen in the whole goddamn universe, no matter if she’s now four years older than him.

And she still has the power to make his fingers shake in intimidation. Years of working together aside. He’s still scared.

Secretly though, his fear actually reassures him. Reassures him that he still hasn’t changed his mind about her since that day. That he didn’t end up… hating her. He can't even admit it to himself. Some have stated this fact directly to his face.

He is _completely._ Fucking. _Whipped_.

York removes his helmet slowly, revealing his scarred face. Removing his helmet doesn’t change the fact that he’s still shaking. Cold sweat drips down from his forehead and over his right eye. He blinks the sting away. This doesn’t help clear up his vision but the blur in his vision, the sunlight, or the soft gust of wind that blows sand into his eyes doesn’t set off the clear image his has of Carolina’s face.  But it does reveals his expression. He wants this to be as even as possible. If Carolina’s exposed, then he might as well be too.

He gulps.

The once striking, cobalt blue eye is now a shade darker. Carolina knows well enough that it’s not because of the shadows on his face. His eye injury seems less noticeable now than back in the Project. There’s stubble lining his chin, a nick on his left cheek, a band-aid covering it. He’s taken an effort to try and freshen up before this encounter; how cute. His lips have become darker. Has York been smoking, again? Carolina takes in his visage and manages to think _same old York_ while some voice at the back of her head is telling her that _it’s probably not_.

York walks over to Carolina, cheeky smile on his face (she knows that look _so_ well, the wrinkles by his eyes appearing, making the injury more noticeable. She knows that look _too_ well) and goes, “Am I in heaven? Because you look like quite an ang-”

Carolina pulls her left leg back, building some force into it, and kicks what could be considered a bucket of sand hits York’s face.

Flung back by the sand’s force, York coughs and splutters. He was lucky to have seen the shot before it happened and blocked his eyes from the attack.

Carolina snorts as Connie cracks a giggle beside her. “Good to see you too, York.” Carolina says, watching him closely.

Behind them, Grif mutters, “Well, _that_ was _completely_ unnecessary.”

Wash lets out a huff that nearly sounds like a laugh. “Yeah, but you gotta admit, it _was_ pretty entertaining.”

Tucker elbows his leader. “Hey, eco-freak, the guy’s _right there_. He can practically hear you, dude.”

Wash rolls his eyes. "Like _that_ stopped you from calling CT hot. You _know,_ she heard you, right?"

Connie turns to look at them and goes back to the intruders. Tucker has a silent freak-out while Wash’s shoulders are shaking from silent laughter.

Grif still thinks that kick wasn’t necessary _at all_.

Beside York, the girl in yellow armor was on her knees, laughing her head off. She points weakly, up towards York. She practically cannot breathe at the moment. She gathers up her composure, wheezing. “D-did you see your face?!” She then proceeds to cackle, _again_. York gives her a weak glare, a slight blush on his cheeks.

Tucker, Grif and Simmons almost immediately recognize the intruder in yellow.

“Dude, isn’t that your sister? The Blue team one?” Simmons questions Grif.

“...yeah...” Grif says, with a tone of amazement in his voice. He then chuckles and elbows Simmons in the side. “ _See_? I _told_ you she was still alive! Now, you owe me ten bucks.” Grif replied smugly. You could almost hear the smile on his face. “That bitch is _unkillable_.”

Tucker calls out to her. “Hey Kai! Long time no see! Wanna bang later?”

Kaikaina jolts up from the ground in order to greet the voice soliciting her. “Ooh, _yess._ Jackpot! Sure, Tucker!”

Grif emits a groan of disgust at Tucker and his sister. “What did I tell you about _embarrassing the family_ , Kai?”

Kai snorted, rolling her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do, bitch!” Grif gives a tired sigh.

Carolina clears her throat, turning all of the attention towards her. She then proceeds to motion to York and Kai. “We were in the middle of something, _remember_? Do you guys mind if Wash and I speak to, uh, our,” Carolina puts her hands up, making air quotes. “‘hostages’?”

Grif sighs. “Does my sister _really_ have to come with you?”

Carolina sees no problem. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, she won’t be of much help. _And_ , she can be _far_ more annoying than Donut.” “Hey!” Donut calls out from behind the Lieutenants.  “Shut up, Donut.” Grif replies swiftly.

Carolina looks at Kai and sighs. “Well, suit yourselves. Just as long as you guys don’t give us any trouble. Oh, and Felix?” Carolina looks around the group.

“Uh, yes, Ma’am?” Felix replies sarcastically. Carolina glares at him. “You’re on babysitting duty. Take everyone to the facility until further orders.” Felix groans.

Carolina can’t say she finds satisfaction in misery but she finds satisfaction in _Felix’s_ misery. She can tell from this distance that Tucker does too, as he leans on Wash briefly, forgetting for a moment that he had a helmet on and didn’t need to cover up his smile.

Felix eventually stops his whining and steps toward the group. He clears his throat and claps. “Aaaaal _right_ , kids! If you behave, I’ll give you a cookie.”

Grif looks around his group and says in a determined voice, “You bitches are going _down_.”

Simmons rolls his eyes. _Of course_ Grif would get pumped up for food. “Yeah, sure, let’s just fucking go already.”

Caboose raises his hand and asks, “Does it come with orange juice?”

Felix rounds up the troopers and the lieutenants in the most condescending way possible. “Sure, Caboose. I’m sure Sarge will get us some sooner or later. C’mon, to the facility you go.”

Wash steps away from the group, making it a point to lightly hit Tucker on the back for patting his helmet. "Keep Caboose out of trouble, okay?" He orders.

" _Please,_ " Tucker laughs. "Don't I always?" Wash rolls his eyes and walks toward Carolina.

York snorts, immediately noticing the gray soldier. “Is that who I _think_ it is? Dude, what the _fuck_ happened to your helm— _Oh,_ right. _Fuck_ , Wash. We _really_ need to get you guys to the canyon now.”

Wash takes off his helmet, passing it from one hand to another. He gives York a sweet smile. “Oh, you like my helmet? Yeah, it prevents the inevitability of me eating sand like a fucking moron.” Carolina tries not to smile.

York makes a face. “Well, _you’re_ pleasant.” He turns to Connie. “Was he _always_ like that?” Carolina looks to the side and smiles.

“Oh, _no_ you don’t. _I_ get to ask the questions first,” Connie says, pushing Wash aside to get all up in York’s face. There’s a finger pushing York back and the taller of the two _cannot_ fucking believe he’s so scared all of a sudden.

“Why are you here?” Connie asks, poking at York’s chest armor to punctuate every word.

Carolina looks between her old teammates, not even hiding her smile anymore, then to Wash. “Make sure they don’t kill each other. I’m gonna go get Epsilon.” She sounds amused.

York’s head whips toward Carolina, but she’s already gone. He looks to Wash, a twinge of panic on his face. “Did she just say what I _think_ she said?” Wash just stares at him.

“Dude, fucking _answer me_ ,” York demands. Connie steps off with a huff hands up in mock surrender, wanting _nothing_ to do with explaining Epsilon to York. Especially since she herself didn’t really know. Wash sighs.

“I don’t know what you ‘thought’ she said. I’m not exactly a mind reader, York.”

In a flash, York rushes Wash and grabs him by the chest plate. He stares at Wash directly in his sleep-deprived eyes. “Fucking _damn_ it!” York hisses through his teeth, shaking Wash frantically. “You know perfectly _well,_ what the hell I’m talking about, Wash. I thought the project was _over_! Why the fuck does she— Why does she have an A.I.?!”

Wash sighs. “There’s an _extremely_ long explanation for that but I’ll let her tell you herself. It’s kinda personal. But, long story short, she needs Epsilon to run her enhancements.”

York backs off, turns around and gently rubs at his face, careful of the edges of his armor. He groans  and drops his arms back to his sides. He looks at Connie. “Well?” He asks.

“Right.” Connie says, sensing that the subject of Epsilon and Carolina’s unexpected partnership was done, for the moment. “Why are _you_ here? This wasn’t part of the plan.” Wash eyes both of them carefully.

“Tex was getting worried. Says you were taking a bit too long.” York answers briefly, nonchalantly, can’t get over the fact that Carolina still has one of _those_ things in her head. Connie huffs.

“Yeah, that’s not really _my_ fault.” She makes a point to put it out there, giving Wash a sidelong glance.

Wash sighs, letting the relief relax his body. “So you _weren’t_ gonna attack or anything? Thank _Christ_. Even if there _were_ three of us who were completely competent in a fight here, I’m pretty sure Caboose would find a way to kill one of us. Somehow.”

“What, is your new team not up to par?” York jokes, “I thought these sim troopers were supposed to be some kind of ‘hot shots’, taking down the Project and all.”

“Didn’t you guys end up in some planet’s civil war?” Connie asks, curious about what Doc had told her. ”How’d that go?”

“It was fine,” Wash replied. “Got shot in the head, got separated from my friends, tried to get back to them, they got back to me first, found Carolina again. You know, same old stuff. Mostly just stopped an interplanetary bloodshed from space pirates though.”

York and Connie blink for a second, glancing at each other. When was Wash so... _nonchalan_ t about such a thing?

“So…” Wash breaks the silence, making popping noises from his mouth. He leans back in the sand and rocks forward again.“What _was_ your plan, anyway?”

“In a word? ‘Diplomacy’,” York replies but not without chuckling. Wash has gone so far, it’s like York didn’t even know the guy anymore (as much as York would like to remind himself that this _is_ Wash). But hey, York _liked_ meeting new people.

Wash gives him a skeptical look. York notes that it’s because of his answer. York gives him one that just screams 'defensive’.

“ _What_? It was a joint effort, okay?” York defends, “We don’t really work that well with smooth-talkin’ if it’s not done by Florida or we’re not lead by Carolina. You know how _that_ goes. Remember when she was in a coma? Sheesh, we sucked _so_ hard at missions that the Director was considering that we _all_ had to move down a rank or three.” He chuckles and gradually stops. Wash and Connie are just staring blankly at him now. Well, Connie was but Wash… gave him a concerned look.

York gives them a sheepish grin and scratches the back of his neck. “... _right_. Both of you guys weren’t there for that… I... guess I forgot.”

Wash holds a hand up, crease on his forehead looking so natural there that York can’t seem to remember the time when Wash didn’t have that on his forehead. “No, I know what happened without Carolina back then, North used to tell me stories when I wasn’t too out of it from the implant. I’m just really _concerned_ that, you guys can’t function properly without Carolina to lead you. Isn’t _Tex_ holding up fine?”

Connie pulls her knees up to her chest and lays down her head. “Well, she isn’t _really_ that kind of person. She seems to move fine by herself and tries really hard to add us into what _she_ thinks will give us the best results. She tries to let us make up our own plans, too, so the team doesn’t have its disagreements.”

“Yeah, and we do what _we_ do best, just follow and improvise.” York shrugs.

“Huh. Doesn’t sound too different than what we do now,” Wash notes with a smirk. “Carolina doesn’t have the crack team of professionals that she used to, but we still manage to make things work.” Connie and York give each other a look and laugh. Wash pauses for a second.

“What? Did I say something?”

Connie lays a hand on his knee, “No, we just think that ‘manage to make things work’ is too much of an understatement for taking down a corrupt project and ending a civil war.”

Wash gives them both strange looks, but remembers that they don’t really know how shit went down in Chorus.

“Y’know, the stuff that I’ve seen the Reds and Blues do are _far_ crazier than what our team ever did.” He says, as if to prove to them that his team really _did_ get lucky with Carolina’s leadership. Connie and York stop laughing and looks at him. Wash stares at the sand rather sheepishly. York raises an eyebrow at this. There was something far crazier than jumping off of buildings with no back-up plan?

“Oh, come on now, Wash.” They hear a male voice say rather exasperatedly. York looks over his shoulder to see Carolina. Who was talking? He looks behind her. Nope, no one.

Epsilon appears in front of Wash, pointing between his eyes. Wash blinks at the sudden light. “We leave you for a minute and a half and you’re already giving away our tactics!”

Wash makes a face and waves Epsilon’s hologram out of his face. “What ‘tactics’ are you talking about? We don’t even plan for anything!”

Epsilon shakes his head, holding out his hands in a ‘stop’ motion. “ _Shhhh_ , shut _up_! Nooo..! They don’t know that! _Goddamnit_ , Wash!” He hisses.

Carolina sighs. “Knock it off, Epsilon; we’re here to ‘interrogate’ them, not impress them.” She flashes York and Connie a teasing smile. She’s mostly joking, but it would be good to get some information from them.

“So, first thing’s first: why are you alive right now?” Carolina stands tall, arms crossed, staring down at them. It’s unfair that she doesn’t want to sit down and talk to them at eye-level.

York and Connie look at each other, how are they supposed to answer that?

Connie clears her throat, deciding for herself that York absolutely _did not_ want to answer. “You know, if you asked each and every person in the canyon that question? We’d probably just shrug. We literally just woke up in both bases one day and gathered to ask each other what happened. None of us know, unfortunately.”

Epsilon appears over Carolina’s shoulder. “Bullshit, I think you’re lying.” York and Carolina give each other a look.

“ _I_ think you need to shut up.” York retorts. Connie bumps his knee but he waves it off. It’s not rude if he’s not the one who pushes first.

“Seriously, Epsilon?” Carolina says. Epsilon turns to look at her. Oh, he _knows_ what’s coming. She’s gonna scold him for being cautious. “I brought you here to help,   _not_ to over-complicate things.” See? Told ya.

Epsilon huffs. “Well, if you knew I’d ‘over-complicate’ things, you shouldn’t have gotten me either way.” He says, and disappears. Carolina sighs, defeated.

York looks to Wash, “Sheesh. Was _that_ why you went nuts?” Connie’s eyes widen. She glances towards Wash. Wash averts his look, settles on looking at the ground.

Connie glares at York, kicks his shin. The sound of their armor clashing is loud against the sound of the beach. “Ow!” York exclaims. “What the hell was _that_ for?!”

“Way to be sensitive, _asshole_.” She hisses. York rubs at his shin but thinks about it.

“No it’s- it’s okay,” Wash reassures them. “I’m more or less over it now… I guess.”

They drop into another silence. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that the cause is Wash and Wash can’t say he likes that fact.

He looks around then up towards Carolina. “That all we have to ask, boss?”

Carolina looks down at him and remembers something. “Just, gimme a sec. I’ll wait ‘til Epsilon’s clear with it. He has to agree with this before we go through seeing if the troopers do too.”

She taps on her helmet. “Epsilon. _Epsilon_ ,” Carolina sighs. “ _Church_ , we need to clarify this.”

Carolina glances at the green, purple-pink, and light blue on her peripherals. She doesn’t bat an eye about it. “Well?” She asks.

York stands up stepping towards Carolina, “Whoa, whoa, wait a sec.” York stares at the AI. The hologram flashes, all that’s left is the light, translucent blue. Epsilon rises up towards York’s face. “Hey. You gonna start a fight, huh, Cyclops?” Epsilon mocks.

“ _No_ , you fucking douche. I _saw_ that.” York says, pointing at the general direction of what’s behind Epsilon.

“Oh, yeah? Well what else does your elf eye see, huh? The size of your di—”

“ _Epsilon_.” Carolina cuts him off. She pushes York back, gently. “That’s the _other_ reason I brought him here, actually.” She explains. There’s a knot on York’s forehead, confusion paints his expression. He _knows_ what he saw, he _swears_.

“Epsilon, show them.” She orders. Epsilon blinks and he’s in front of her helmet in an instant. “Hey, I didn’t come here to be your show and tell for the class this afternoon, Miss Carolina. I came here for answers but as _you_ clarified not even five seconds ago, I just ‘over-complicate’ thi—”

“ _Epsilon!_ ” She shouts over him. “This isn’t just for _me,_ okay?” She asks, gently this time.

He sighs. “Okay, okay. They’re getting a bit antsy anyway,” Epsilon comments, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” And with that, Epsilon blinks out of existence.

“Yes, I’m sure,” insists Carolina.

“What are you doing?” asks York. “What’s going on, Carolina? Who’re getting antsy?” He turns to Wash and Connie. “Can someone answer my questions, please?” Both Freelancers look at each other and shrug.

Carolina rolls her eyes. “Would it _kill_ you to wait for like, a second? Jesus, York.”

***

Church blinks into the space between seconds, the place he likes to do his important thinking. Or does most of his planning so Carolina doesn’t die a painfully lame death.

York, Carolina, CT, and Wash and the beach, technicolored, seem to be in suspended animation. Church pretends to pop out a crick in his nonexistent neck. He stares at his armored glove and decides that he doesn’t like how bulky it looks.

He closes his eyes and concentrates. He doesn’t need to either way. He feels the crunches of pixels going back to some part in the back of his brain (or core or whatever the fuck the technical term is. He can already feel Delta correcting him about calling it a core).

The advantage about being an AI with a complete separate mind from his source is, he can look like whatever the fuck he wants. That means he won’t look like bald flaming Sigma or pixelly Gamma. Or the Director.

From what he could recall, he couldn’t even function enough to disarm a bomb from his own body and now… Now he can run five enhancements without even having to move. Carolina does it all for him.

He looks around the empty space. Didn’t realize he shut off his subroutines. “Hey guys, important meeting, get out here,” Church calls out. The flashes of light could have bothered him if he had eyes. Each fragment (or the memory of them) appeared one by one.

“Hey Church!” Theta greets excitedly, a purple flash and a hologram of a young boy in Spartan armor appears next to him. “Isn’t it great news? Everyone’s alive!” Theta bounces and claps, enthusiasm just _oozing_ from him.

“Yeah, buddy,” Church puts his hand onto Theta’s helmet and rubs it like he would normally do if Theta had hair. “It seems like it.” He can’t say how but Theta usually brings a smile to his face.

“This is an impossible event, for sure,” Delta observes, but doesn’t look at the Freelancers, “But one cannot deny the fact that Agent Connecticut and Agent York are _here_ in front of us.” He points out. Church resists the urge to shut the guy down. No _shit_ , the guys are in front of them. As if he couldn’t see that already.

“Alright, D, but we can’t focus on that right now. I need you guys to listen to me.” Church motions to the others to come closer. Delta bites his tongue (or the equivalent of it as a subroutine anyway). Church didn’t need to do that. He knows perfectly well that everyone can hear him otherwise.

He comes closer anyway. So do the others. Theta couldn’t be any more closer to Church right now.

“So, you guys have been freaking out a lot. I get that it’s _kinda_ my fault because y’know, _memory_ and all that. But you guys gotta chill the fuck out! As far as I know, I can always blink out and talk to you guys _in here_ ,” Church taps his helmet for good measure. “I get that you all remember what happened to your partners before… they went away, but, if they’re here again, you guys gotta settle down!”

“Theta,” Church calls. The boy looks up at him. There’s guilt visible in his movements. Delta notes that there’s a slump on everyone’s shoulders right now. Himself included. “You know North, right?” Delta mentally reaches out to make sure the boy knows he’s there to help. Theta glances at him and nods at Church. “North’s tough, strong. If he’s alive again, he’s gonna last longer. _Especially_ if he’s gonna be hanging out in a box canyon. With no enemies, casualties or, not much of _anything_ , really.” Church says, kneeling down to the boy’s level.

He puts a reassuring hand on Theta’s shoulder, like he’s done so countless of times before. “You have to believe in them, alright?”

That seems to reassure all of them. Delta feels the wave of something similar to relief wash over his fellow fragments.

“This goes to _all_ of you, of course,” Church continues, and they all nod in unison.

“O’Malley,” Church calls out. Omega gives him a nod. “You gotta stop trying to fuckin’ take over, man! You know I’ll call you up when I need you, right? Tone down the enthusiasm, please.” Omega huffs but Delta knows that Church’s words got to him. He just doesn’t know if his ‘brother’ acknowledged them.

“So what do you suppose we should do at this point?” Sigma asks, bringing the meeting back on track. “Accepting that this is all real, would it really be safe to be reunited with our partners?”

“I wouldn’t say _reunited_.” Church says. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m not exactly keen on being ripped apart to give you back to your partners. _Especially_ since most of them aren’t too keen on meeting _you_ , Sig.”

“But of course,” Sigma acknowledges. “After all, no one regrets what happened more than I. If only _you_ were there, Epsilon, things would’ve been different.”

Church shakes his head. “You _may_ have had good intentions, but did you ever stop to think about how your actions would affect those _around_ you?”

“I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t. How could you _ever_ forgive the things they did to us? The things _he_ did to our Creator?” Sigma brings up.

Church takes a deep breath, knowing that Omega’s probing his head right now. “Can you _not_ call Alpha that? Alpha didn’t _create_ us, okay? He _was_ us. Now, if you’re gonna be all noble about _this,_ ” He waves around the whole group, “Bringing all of the fragments, together when you knew perfectly well that it was _im-fucking-possible_ , I suggest you get your facts _straight_ and face the consequences of your actions.”

There’s a dangerous tone in Church’s voice and actions that makes Sigma and the rest stand back. Delta watches closely as Church leans closer to the fiery AI.

“ _Don’t_ compare yourself to him, you understand? You have _no_ idea what the hell he’s been through.” Church hissed and Theta reaches forward to restrain him.

Gamma steps in between them. “This isn’t the time to argue about the past. Let’s stay focused on the task at hand.” He nods in the direction of Carolina and York, whose heads have slowly been bobbing with their conversation. “They are expecting us any moment now.”

Church turns to look behind him, “You mean York is expecting…” He elongates the word, turning back to the group to look at the logical one of the bunch. “Delta.”

Delta takes a step back; he doesn’t mean to but still does. He hesitates. The group forgot about the statement he made earlier; that it’s impossible for the Freelancers that they see before them to be alive.

“I highly object to this.” He says quite frankly. Church appears next to him, patting his shoulder while scrolling through a holographic projection of Carolina’s projector settings. He snorts and says, “ _Puh-lease_ , it can’t possibly be _that_ bad, D. You can do it!”

Delta doesn’t know how to explain it but he gulps as Church finds the options he needed to change. Before Church presses the button, Delta’s hand grabs for Church’s. “Wait.” He says. Church looks at him but retracts his hand to calm Delta down a little.

He can feel Church trying to go through his mind and tries to relax. Church knows perfectly well why he’s nervous about this.  Regardless of rumbling through his mind.

But, again, Church snorts at him and finally presses the button. “You’ll be _fine_ , buddy!” “I don’t think—”

He feels the vertigo as he’s transferred out of bullet time. As he hears, through Carolina’s sensors, the beach, the birds and York’s breath hitch. It’s strangely familiar. Well, not the beach but York.

York has always been familiar.

“...so.” He ends his sentence. He knows it’s futile but at least he let it out. At least he knows that Epsilon and the others heard him. He also knows that Epsilon wasn’t the only one who heard it.  York’s staring directly at him right now. He stares but he’s really scanning the other Freelancer’s vitals and DNA. They check out. He _still_ can’t believe it.

York’s _alive_.

“...It’s very nice to see you again, Agent York.”

* * *

 

Back at the canyon, the Freelancers are getting restless. Tex isn’t surprised at all. Actually, she’s quite restless too. She’s never experienced being a leader before and she might as well have led her teammates to certain doom.

She strains to stay up as she sits by the cliff, feeling the burn of the sun and her unease as the “leader” of the group. She hasn’t even told anyone about her “humanness” yet. Except for Kai, since she doesn’t know about before. She makes for good conversation. And surprisingly, a decent sparring partner as well. Of course, Tex has to go easy on her, but Kai has surprisingly caught her off-guard with a few “unusual”, but effective, techniques.

Tex holds her breath, an old technique, and exhales. She continues doing so. She has to now.

She hears footsteps, just a little bit too closer than her usual hearing distance. If she wasn’t human, she’d hear those footsteps a complete minute before they were this close to her. She looks behind her. It’s South. Probably concerned and restless. Just like Tex. But South mustn’t see that part of her.

“Tex, what the fuck are we supposed to do while everyone’s gone?” She sounds lost. Tex glances at her. That’s a first. South isn’t usually lost about things. She always knew what she wanted.

“I don’t control what you do, South.” Tex responds, her tiredness seeping into her tone. She keeps it casually tired. “You can screw everyone in this canyon for the next twenty-four hours for all I care. Just, make sure you don’t kill someone in the process.”

South plops down next to her. “Well, that’s not exaggerating at all,” she states sarcastically. “And just so you know, I _don’t_ have STIs.” She pulls up her foot and leans back. South has always been pretty casual. Tex has been the same way, ever since she ran away from the program, but right now there’s no time for relaxing. She just sent three soldiers out into ‘the field’, for lack of a better term, and they still haven’t reported back in.

To be honest, there isn’t much to worry about; if she knows her idiots, they’ll have already been convinced and are on their way right now. Then again, they’re idiots, so they probably got into some kind of trouble.

“Hey, are these guys, sim troopers, whatever.” She waves off. “Are they really _that_ big of a deal? Why are we going out of our way to bring them back to this shithole canyon anyway? They’d probably be _way_ better off out there.” South muses, mostly to herself.

Tex barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? They wouldn’t last a _day_ out there if it weren’t for Carolina and Washington looking out for them.” She pulls up her leg, mirroring South’s position to face her. “Let me put it this way: if you told these guys to land a Pelican, they’d just turn the engine of and cross their fingers.”

The thought sends South into a fit of giggles (and soon, cackles). “No fucking way! Could you imagine if they tried that on Niner’s ship? She’d beat the _shit_ out of them!”

“Exactly. They’re incompetent, arrogant, whiney and so goddamn obnoxious. They wouldn’t last _a  week_ by themselves,” Tex states rather affectionately. She remembers the days she fooled around with them in the canyon (and that one time out of the canyon). She also remembers that she has to punch Church in the face (or elsewhere) the moment they see each other again.

“But that brings me back to my other question: Why are we going out of our way for them?” South asks, genuinely curious and a bit confused. “No offense.”

“Because…” Tex pauses and thinks for a moment. Slowly, she begins to smile. She doesn’t even mean to. She just does it. And this time, she’s not gonna hide it. “Because, regardless of their problems, they’re probably the most loyal and trusting group of fuck-ups I’ve ever known, and if they actually made it this far without dying? Well, maybe they aren’t so bad after all.”

South’s silent for a moment, just, staring at her. Tex has been getting that a lot. With Connie, too. Why do people keep staring at her?

She turns her head to face South’s gaze. “You got a staring problem, South?”

“What? No,” South laughs, “You just seem different, that’s all.”

“Different how?”

“Well for starters, you’re not your usual cranky self but we both know that’s because of Omega.” South explains. “And you’re a lot more thoughtful of people than before. I mean, before, you didn’t even talk. Well, to me.” She stumbles but continues. “Like, these sim troopers. When did you start caring about _them_?” South asks and for a moment, Tex’s mind is silent. She thinks about it.

The Reds and Blues kinda just bumped into the ‘people I must protect’ spectrum. She didn’t even know when it happened. She was just really fond of some of them. Well, _most_ of them. Okay, maybe all of them.

South shifts closer. “Oh, I got a better question.” She says and pauses, like she needs a moment to rearrange her words. That’s not the way she usually behaves, Tex thinks. But, well, if you’re given a second chance, there’s bound to be a change.

“So, I heard you were an AI.” She starts. Tex can’t help the sharp intake of breath. “I mean, _I_ didn’t believe it at first. Just thought that North was making fun of me or something but…” She trails off, looking at Tex’s face plate. “I considered it. I mean, not _everyone_ can make Maine see stars, right?”

Tex averts her eyes from South’s. Hopefully she can’t see inside her helmet. “Are you gonna be mad if I said yes?”

South cracks a smile and laughs. “You serious? That’d be fucking _phenomenal_! I’ve _never_ seen an android before.” Her smile slowly fades, her gaze turning away from Tex. She fiddles with her hands and stares out into the canyon. “I mean, I’ve been pretty shitty around the technology onboard the Mother of Invention. I practically destroyed maybe _ten_ of their control panels every time I went down a rank.”

“I suppose,” she continues, “I suppose I don’t have to worry as much this time. Right?”

Tex can’t help but smile. South really has grown up a bit.

“I just wish I wasn’t so fucking bored!”

Okay, she might have to emphasize on that ‘a bit’ part.

Before Tex has time to respond, a notification rings on her HUD. The sound catches South’s attention as well. It’s from Maine.

> **HELP**

“Oh joy.” Tex deadpans. “ _Jesus_ , I can’t leave these idiots alone for more than three hours,” Tex muttered as she activated the comm. “Maine? Where the hell are you?”

> **I DON’T KNOW BUT WYOMING IS A DEAD MAN**

“Ugh,” says Tex, and radios Wyoming. “What did you do?”

“Me? You must be mistaken, dear Tex,” Wyoming’s smug voice replies. “I didn’t do _anything_.” Tex can smell the big fat lie like it was just thrown at her face and smudged into her nose. As disgusting as that metaphor may have sounded, it’s the truth.

> **YOU PUSHED ME INTO A HOLE YOU PRICK**

“Reginald,” Tex’s temper begins to rise, “I swear to God, you are the _oldest_ person in this box canyon, try to fucking _act_ like it. What the fuck did you do _this time_?”

“Alright, alright. Maine and I were just commenting on the grave that was dug near Red Base, and I observed that the hole was _far_ too pitch black to be merely 6 feet deep.”

“What?!” Tex bellows. South starts laughing hysterically. “You pushed him into a fucking _grave_?”

“It was just an experiment! For science!” Wyoming exclaimed. “I wanted to see how far down it went. Apparently, farther than 6 feet, or else Maine’s helmet would be popping out from the top. He _is_ rather large.”

> **WYOMING WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE I /WILL/ DESTROY YOUR CD COLLECTION**

“Oh, don’t worry, chum. They’re not even mine,” Wyoming muses. “But I think a certain ‘Franklin’ would be very upset if you did that. It’d be a shame too, he had a good collection while it lasted.”

“That’s e _nough_!” Tex yells. “Maine, are you injured? What’s your status?”

> **I’m fine. In a cave. Not much light.**

Maine has calmed down, or so she thinks. He’s switched back to two-three word sentences.

“A cave, huh?” Tex comments. She radios Florida; he was running the place at one time, maybe he’ll know what the cave’s about. “Hey Florida,” Tex calls, “Is there some kind of cave system under the canyon?”

Florida’s beaming voice is heard through her speakers. “Indeed there is, Miss Texas! That’s where good ol’ Vic and I used to run the Freelancer scenarios on the sim troopers stationed here. Ah, I miss those boys.”

“And Doc,” asks Tex, ignoring that last comment, “How much do you know about the underground cave?”

“Oh, uhh, I’m pretty sure I know my way around,” says Doc, currently out on top of Blue base with Florida. “O’Malley would do all his ‘evil planning’ down there.”

“Okay, great,” Tex grumbles to Doc; she’s still a bit disgruntled about her former AI. “You and Florida get your asses down there and help us look for Maine.”

“Uh, are the lights off?” Doc asks.

Tex tries not to be too confused. This isn’t really the time to be afraid of something like the dark when you’re wearing full body armor. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“That probably means, that the power’s down. I suspected as much.” Florida cuts in, sounding maybe just a little bit tired. That speaks volumes of how much Florida’s feeling right now.

Tex nods. “Alright then, try to find the generators. It’ll be easier to find them with the floodlights on than without.”

“Roger that, Agent Texas. They’ll be on in no time.” Responds Florida.

“Maine?” Tex called out to him on the comm, connecting him to the channel. “Can you see anything down there yet?”

> **A little. Gonna get brighter real soon, though. I have an idea.**

“ _You_ with an idea? Don’t hurt yourself _too_ much.” chuckles Wyoming.

An explosion rips through comms and shakes the cliffs under Tex’s feet. She pushes back from the cliffside, pulling South with her. Wyoming’s connection breaks.

Tex pushes up from her position, HUD zooming in on the hole in the ground that those two _idiots_ fell into. Bios look good. Both Maine and Wyoming’s readings look faint. They’re both underground. “Someone mind telling me what the _hell just happened_ right now _?_ ”

White noise fills her ears until there’s a crack, and a cough. “I think,” It’s Wyoming. “That was Agent Maine’s _idea_ that just happened.”

> **Very funny. Welcome to the cave, asshole.**

“Hah!” South’s laugh echoed out into the cave. “I totally _have to_ see this. You coming too?” she asks, throwing a smile at Tex before she slides her helmet on.

Tex grins back. “How about a race?” She points herself in a ready position towards the smoke rising up near Red base.

South chuckles and positions herself. “ _Now_ you’re talking. Last one there cleans out Red base.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, due to lack of inspiration, we're no longer working on this fic for the forseeable future. stubbornjerk has moved onto a new fandom, and I (aplatonicjacuzzi) honestly don't have the motivation to continue things as they are. Sorry!


End file.
